A Million Little Things That Bind Us Together
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: "There are a million things that bind us together-the fact that we're cousins just happens to be one of them." Everyone has a different point of view, of course, and the Weasley grandchildren have their own stories to tell, in their own words. These are the things that bind them together, connecting them, making them who they are. These are their lives, these are their stories.
1. First Kisses

_**Written for the 'HP Potions Competition' by Black Boxed, using **__**Heartbreaker's Teardrops**__** – Write about a breakup. **_

_**Also for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using the emotion curiosity. **_

_**For 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Victoire: first kiss. **_

_**For 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using # 267, illegal. **_

….

_Victoire_

Victoire's first ever kiss is when she is thirteen years old; he's a Slytherin with dark hair, who doesn't even bother asking her name. He just grabs her arms, snogs her, and leaves. That's it-the first time she is ever kissed is just pure chance. She's curious afterwards, if that is what all kisses are like-as if she was breaking some sort of rule she hadn't known existed.

….

_Teddy_

Teddy's first kiss comes when he is nearly fifteen, when Rachael Zheng finally agrees to go out with him. It's a horrible, awkward date that will certainly lead nowhere, though Teddy doesn't know that. She doesn't speak much the entire time, but as they walk back to the castle, she kisses him abruptly on the mouth, and explains that she's not interested.

….

_Victoire _

Her next kiss comes three weeks later when she lets her lips fall onto Andrew McCormey's after a Quidditch match. It's a matter of curiosity, of wanting to do something she shouldn't. (Something almost illegal.) McCormey is a sixth year and she a second, but it doesn't matter, because they both know it's not serious. She tells herself that when Victoire watches him turn and kiss her best friend an hour later. (She's lying, of course. _It does matter_.)

….

_Teddy _

His next kiss is that summer, when he's hanging out at his godfather's house. He's been spending his time playing with Albus and James, when their cousin, Molly, comes over. She's eleven, almost twelve, and swears he's the cutest boy she's ever seen. Teddy doesn't even what she's doing until her lips are covering hers. He pushes her off, explaining that he's fifteen and she's eleven-it will never work between them, and he's not interested. (So, why does it hurt when she walks away with tears in her eyes?)

….

_Victoire _

The third kiss doesn't come until her fourth year, when she begins to take boys seriously. It's Luke Garrett who catches her eye, a tall fifth year with sandy hair and dark eyes. He's so much taller than her, not muscular, but his hands are warm when they run through her hair. She lets him kiss her over and over, because that's what girlfriends do. They last all of four months, until Luke moves on to another girl. It hurts her, but she's already curious who she can make kiss her like he did.

….

_Teddy _

Teddy goes an entire year without even holding another girl's hand, though it's not from lack of trying. It's just that no one seems interested, and Teddy's not the most outgoing sort of person. Girls scare him, just a bit, and it isn't until he ends up drunk at a party that his lips find themselves nibbling on a girl's. They go at it for hours, until he leads her to a secluded spot. In the morning, his head will hurt, and he'll feel embarrassed, because he doesn't even know her name. (_She is his first._)

….

_Victoire _

Later, there is Mark Whittaker, who takes her to Hogsmeade and calls her pretty. She lets him put his hand up her shirt and touch her breasts, but that is as far as it goes. Her parents have pushed it harshly into her mind that she isn't a slut; she doesn't sleep with any of the boys, but it can't hurt to let her lips have a little fun, right? Besides, she knows her limits, and so far, there isn't a boy who is even interesting enough to actually _think _about crawling into bed with.

….

_Teddy_

He has always liked Victoire, though it was usually morein a big-brother sort of way. He knows she's pretty, and he can't help but grow attracted as she grows older. After all, she's no longer the scrawny teenager who follows him on the train; she's seventeen and beautiful. All he wants to do now is kiss her, and he wants to mean it in a way that the other kisses never did. (Is it possible he's fallen in love?)

….

_Victoire _

Teddy Remus Lupin-what a boy. He was, of course, beautiful, and mysterious. He had always fascinated her, Uncle Harry's godson, who was part of the family but always seemed to hold his distance. Besides, he was two years older than she, and hadn't Victoire sworn off older men after Mark? But, she can't help but stare at him every time he opens his mouth, watching Teddy's lips move. She had to kiss him, Victoire decided. At least once. (Is it possible she's falling in love?)

….

_Teddy_

It's a wonderful kiss, the best one he's ever had. He holds her tightly and whispers that he loves her. The kiss seems to last forever, and all he can think is that _this _is the girl for him, the one he wants to be with forever. He can't imagine ever kissing anyone else, and he tells Victoire that.

….

_Victoire_

The kiss wasn't as great as she had thought it would be. His breath smells like peppermint (breath mints, no doubt, and she doesn't want to hurt his feelings by saying she hates peppermint) and his tongue is awkward in her mouth. But, he's sweet and she's (maybe) in love with him. She agrees to a date, because she honestly wants to date him. Victoire doesn't expect it to last long, though. He'll bore her, eventually, and she'll move on.

….

_Teddy _

Their last (oh, Merlin, please don't let it be the last one) kiss is during Christmas, the year after she gets out school. They've been dating for a year and a half, and he wants to marry her. Victoire's been distant recently, but he's sure it's just her new job. But, when she meets him for their date that he finally got her to agree to, all she does is quickly peck him on the mouth and explain she's not ready to be that serious. In fact, she's not really interested anymore. It breaks his heart.

….

_Victoire_

The poor boy is obviously heartbroken, and she feels somewhat bad about it. He was clearly more in love with her than she was with him, but Teddy wants to marry her. She has to explain the situation, has to make it clear that she's done, she wants to break up with him. It's pathetic really, how sad he looks when she explains what's happening. She kisses him one last time and gets up from their table, apologising for the inconvenience. He sits there silently, not meeting her eyes.

….

_Teddy_

He wishes he could go back to their very first kiss, when he was just a naïve little boy who was curious about a pretty, sharp-tongued girl.


	2. Dominique's Rules

_**For the 'Ten by Ten Competition' by Utlaga, using the emotion, jealousy. **_

_**For the 'Connect all the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Dominique: rules. **_

_**For the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 7, green with envy. **_

….

Rules, rules, rules. There were always _rules. _Rules at home, rules at school, rules she imposed on herself, because she was a _good little girl_, and always did what Daddy told her to. There were a long list of rules for Dominique, and she told them to herself every day, lest she forget and mess up, and stop being a _good little girl_. Because, if not for that, who was she except the middle child of Bill Weasley? She wasn't the prettiest (that was Torie) and she wasn't the smartest (that was Louis) but she was only human, and couldn't she just wish for a boy to hold her hand? _Not if that boy is dating your sister. _Said the voice in her head, the one that made the rules that Dominique lived by each and every day. Simple rules, usually, but her fascination with Teddy Lupin wasn't at all a simple thing.

_Don't run in the house, Dom. _

_Don't eat all the sweets, Dom. _

_Don't stay out past curfew, Dom. _

_Don't fall in love with your sister's ex-boyfriend, Dom. _

She hadn't meant to fall in love, hadn't meant to become attracted to Teddy Lupin, but he was pretty, and kind to her, the way she had always been told a boy should act. He used to come over all the time when Vic and he were dating, spending long hours on their couch or at the dinner table, or at the beach. Supposedly, Torie and Teddy were going for a swim, but she knew better, when they came back with dry swim suits and secret glances. She had seen the way they laughed together and nudged each other's foot at dinner that night, sharing entire conversations just by looking at each other-conversations she had no idea about. Dominique turned away, wishing it was _her _that Teddy was laughing and joking with, instead of Torie, even though she knew Dominique ought to be happy for her sister. (But Victorie always got what she wanted, even boys. Couldn't Dominique just have this one thing?)

_Don't be jealous, Dom. _

_Don't be petty, Dom. _

_Don't be dramatic, Dom. _

_Don't let them see you cry, Dom. _

More rules she put upon herself. More restrictions, more regulations. Every day, there were more things she had to forbid herself from doing, more things she had to write down on her ever growing list of rules that she could never, _ever _break. Dominique tried to be a good girl, a good daughter, a good sister, but, she couldn't help it, she just couldn't help herself, not when it came to Teddy. Seeing the two of them made her green with envy, and she only put more rules down on her list, scowling each time her quill splashed across the page, knowing it was just another turn of the knife, just another reason she was so _desperate _to escape dreary, rule-bound England. Dominique was glad when she went away to school that September and Torie didn't, because she could take a break from the _Torie and Teddy show _that always seemed to be playing, even in her dreams. And, although she felt guilty admitting it, she was almost overjoyed when Torie came home one day, about a week before Christmas, to explain she'd broken up with Teddy. No real explanation given, but who cared? Teddy was single. Didn't that mean that maybe, just maybe, she now had a chance with the one she had always fantasized about, the one she'd given entire activities, entire chunks of her life, up for, just in the hopes that maybe it wouldn't hurt so much anymore.

_Don't tell them how you feel, Dom. _

_Don't love the wrong boy, Dom._

_Don't dream about Teddy, Dom. _

_Don't break the rules, Dom. _

He wasn't even interested in her, she knew. He was still hurting from his break up with Torie, forced to make nice at social gatherings, and it wasn't like he would ever be interested in the younger, not as pretty sister. Victorie shown like a star wherever she walked, and Dominique followed after, stumbling and trying to glow all on her own. (But Dominique was just a candle compared to her sister, easily snuffed out, easily passed over when it came time to look at the Weasley sisters.) She was the middle child, and she had rules about these sorts of things, rules that she had tightly inscribed into her mind, rules that managed her every step, her every breath of the day. Did he even know her name? (Yes, but did he know why she hated the name?) Did he even know she existed, or was she just another redheaded Weasley to him? (Of course he knew, but did he ever see her as anything more than the little sister of Victorie, the cousin of Fred.) She wasn't sure, but Dominique couldn't help but watch him move and wonder _could that be mine? _

_Don't kiss Teddy, Dom. _

_Don't blush, Dom. _

_Don't wish for stupid thing, Dom. _

_Don't fantasize, Dom. _

Dominique tried to run away from how she felt. She put walls up around her heart, and she made rules about people like Teddy. Maybe in a few years, when they were all older and everyone had gotten over things, she might try to ask Teddy out. Maybe he'd say yes and they'd go on lots of dates and be happy, and he wouldn't mind that she was sixteen and he was twenty. Maybe they'd fall in love and get married. Or maybe she would walk into Torie's room and find the two of them intertwined on the bed, their arms wrapped around each other, kissing and giggling. Her heart dropped as she backed out of the room, tears stinging her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. She had been foolish, wishing there was always a possibility for the turquoise-haired boy who came in her dreams. She had been foolish to ever think about breaking the rules, the ones that governed her entire life, keeping her a happier person. She had been silly to ever hope Teddy would love her, and all Dominique could do was write more, more, _more _rules until she practically drowned in a list of things to keep for herself.

_Don't love boys you can't have, Dom. _

_Don't assume you can have what you want, Dom. _

_Don't ever let your walls fall down, Dom. _

_Don't fall in love, Dom. _


	3. Doing it all wrong

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Louis: confusion. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using emotion: confusion. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 96, what do you mean? **_

….

Teddy enjoyed Christmas time; he liked the lights, the trees, the sweets. He might have even gone so far as to say that Christmas was his favourite time of year, when he got to spend time with his grandmother, and the warm feelings of happiness that just came along with this time of the year. He especially loved it when that meant being surrounded by his adoptive family, exchanging gifts. Only one thing could have made this better: if Teddy knew why his girlfriend of a year and a half was avoiding him. He didn't understand the sudden silence, the sudden coldness from her end.

Victoire, or Torie as she liked to be called, had grown distant as of late, not answering his letters or her mobile that he'd given to her for her birthday earlier in May, or ever giving him any explanation for the sudden separation. Had she fallen out of love with him? Had he accidentally offended her over something he didn't even recall happening? It wasn't the first time that Teddy had admitted to being confused by women and general, and Torie especially, who was complicated and conflicted, always changing her mind without telling him or suddenly becoming emotional because of the smallest of things. He groaned, leaning his head against the wooden frame of Molly Weasley's staircase. Was it possible she had moved on without him, seeking out something who understood her better than he did?

Just then, Torie's younger brother, Louis, flopped down next to him, casually fiddling with the watch on his wrist, pushing buttons to change the time. Teddy wasn't as close to the young boy as he was to his sisters; it was partly that Louis was quieter than most of his cousins, and that he was six years younger, nearly, than Teddy with nothing in common to connect the two boys. Until now; perhaps Louis would know something about his sister that would explain why she was upset with him.

"Hey, Louis," Teddy began hesitantly, not sure how to start this conversation. It wasn't like he could just say _so tell me, Louis, is there a particular reason why your sister seems to be ignoring me? _"Is Torie okay? Is there any problems she's been mentioning that I should know about? Problems about life or me, maybe?" He cringed, realising how childish such questions sounded, like he was an overbearing boyfriend who didn't even trust his own girl. Besides, would Louis even care or notice how his sister had been behaving? He was fourteen, probably too focused on school and his friends to pay attention to his older sister, who hadn't had much in common with him to begin with.

"What do you mean?" Louis asked, not looking up from his watch. "Torie is Torie; she's been the same person she was last time I saw her; maybe she's a little busier now than before, and I don't see her as often, but I don't think she's changed. And if she's been having problems, she's not mentioning any of _that _to us." The fourteen year old looked up and saw the confusion in Teddy's eyes. "I mean, I'm sure it's nothing, really. Victoire's weird all the time, anyway. I don't think you should worry or anything like that, if that's what you mean."

"It's just, she hasn't been talking to me recently, and she won't respond to my letters or anything. I think she might have even disconnected her Floo network." Teddy sighed, scrunching up his forehead. "I dunno, maybe I'm being paranoid. I'm sure she's just feeling a little down; she would tell me if something was wrong between us, wouldn't she?" He wasn't sure why he was confiding in this young boy, who had clearly never felt true love before, not the way Teddy felt about Victoire.

"Sure." Louis said, though he didn't sound positive about it. In fact, he now seemed as confused as Teddy felt, and had gone back to fiddling with his watch, the silence hanging between them awkwardly as Teddy sat quietly, worrying. "I'm sure it's just work and life getting in the way, is all. I mean, Torie really seems to like you, a lot more than the other boys she's dated." He turned away, grumbling to himself, "and it's not like I can do anything to stop you, even if I wanted to."

"Yeah, that must be it-just life getting in the way. She _has _to still love me, she just has to." Teddy got a dreamy look on his face as Louis stood up, looking slightly bothered, like he personally thought the situation might be a little more than just things getting in the way; though, he wasn't dumb enough to tell Teddy he was pretty sure Victoire had been avoiding him because she'd found someone else to love, or something else to love. Louis didn't have the heart to tell his sister's girlfriend that Victoire had always been that way, flitting from person to person, thing to thing, always searching for something to complete her, but never quite finding it. He'd figure that eventually though, Teddy would. That reminded Louis….

"Oh, yeah." He said, pulling the folded piece of parchment from his pocket, handing it over. "It's from Victoire; I nearly forgot all about it until now. I think she wanted you to read it in private." No doubt because she was breaking up with him in the letter, and she didn't want him exploding where others could see. Louis had wanted to peek, but the letter was sealed, and Victoire would probably kill him if he did. Teddy took the parchment with shaking hands, scanning the first few sentences as Louis walked off, waiting for the moment of impact.

_Teddy, _

_Sorry I've been distant recently. Honestly, I've got no real excuse for what I've been doing recently, but I'd like to make it up to you by going out to dinner with you next week. I know things have been hectic, with Christmas just around the corner, but I hope you can find the time to meet with me, so we can discuss our relationship together, and where we want to move from here. Oh, that sounds terribly ominous, doesn't it? I apologise, if I've made you nervous by writing these words, but I've no other real way to put it. Please, just promise you'll meet up with me at _our _café? We can get the cocoa and talk, like old times. I'm sure you're mad at me for being so distant, but I want to explain when we meet up, instead of through a letter; it will be better if we're in person when we talk. _

_Love,_

_Torie. _


	4. Molly Fanatic

_**For the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Molly: Sorrow. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 248, grown-up. **_

_**For the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using emotion: obsession. **_

….

Teddy wasn't sure how he felt about girls, in general, just yet. After all, he was just fifteen, and had only been kissed once in his entire life. (It was by a girl named Rachael Zheng, who hadn't really loved him, but hadn't bothered to mention such things until _after _he bought her supper and a drink at The Three Broomsticks.) He knew that he was interested in girls (they invaded his dreams, and made it hard to hold conversations) but he wasn't sure _who _he was interested in, not yet. Maybe girls grew up faster than boys, or maybe it was just easier for them to fall in love-he wasn't entirely sure, but he knew for a fact that girls seemed to fall in love so easily, far too easily, and at the strangest times.

But he was fifteen and unsure of how feels. Maybe that's why she kisses him, maybe that's why she takes control of the situation. Molly, the little girl who is already so grown-up, so mature. She was eleven (almost twelve, she is quick to remind him, pursing her lips in that manner of hers, eyes widening) and appeared to have an obsession with Teddy. He'd noticed her around school, following him sometimes and always asking him questions. They're in the same house, even, and at first he's thinks it's all a childish crush. It's cute, the others tell him, his own little friend to follow him around, like a cat.

Soon enough, though, she was always making sure to be nearby, either sitting with him at mealtimes, or with him at games. He tried to write it off as just affection shown between two people who are nearly cousins, but he had seen the way she looked about ready to cry when he had asked out Rachael, taking off in tears when the girl accepted Teddy hated making people upset, hating sorrow in general, but he didn't know how to make Molly happy and still keep her as the respectable, well-behaved girl everyone has come to known her as. Molly was fanatic about him, he could tell, and Teddy struggled to find a way to keep her the sweet, innocent girl he had grown to know.

….

He'd been spending the summer at Harry's house, baby-sitting and just hanging out. It was fun being with James and Albus, who are eight and seven. Even little Lily, who was just five, is sweet; at the Potter house, Teddy felt like he's a part of something. At the Potter house, the sorrow that overwhelmed his grandmother did not affect him as much. (He loved his grandmother, but she wallowed in her sorrow of the loss of her husband and only child, and he didn't think he can take the sadness.) He felt happy at the Potter home, he felt safe.

It was common for the Weasleys to switch out who was staying at what house, cousins constantly spending the weekend at one uncle's house, and then another's. He shouldn't have been so surprised to come down one morning, then, to find Molly sitting on their couch, watching the telly. She was wearing coveralls and a bow in her hair, looking as innocent as any eleven year old girl should on a Sunday morning.

"Hey, Molly. Nice seeing you again," he greeted her, and Molly's eyes seem to glitter with happiness. Teddy would have taken this as a warning sign for what was to come, but he was too busy walking over to help Ginny with breakfast. She smiled, following him into the kitchen, taking a seat next to Lily, who was giggling happily about something or another. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"It was a surprise visit, really." Ginny said. "She just asked to come over last night, and I told her sure. After all, Molly's a sweet girl, and she's always so well behaved. Unlike _some _people in this house." She said, going over to the boys to separate them, as James had begun to steal Al's bacon, making the seven year old cry out indignatnly. "Hey, Teddy, Molly, do you mind if I just pop out really quick? I need to go check on the neighbor's cat while they're away."

"That's no problem, Aunt Ginny!" Molly said eagerly, and Teddy nodded, somewhat less enthused. He was beginning to wonder if Molly had only decided to come over after finding out he was here as well. Teddy fidgeted as Ginny got up and moved to the front door, reminding himself that there were witnesses, and Molly was always trying to maintain her good girl behavior; she would never try anything ridiculous, would she?

What was he talking about? Teddy had to smile-he was being _silly_. Of course this was just a childish crush of Molly's, something that would go away soon, with age. Why was he so worried, really, when she was probably not even interested in him anymore? Probably, she had just come over to play with Lily, who she most likely hadn't seen in a while. He had no reason to think she'd be anything but the perfect girl she always was.

Just then, Molly got to her feet, wandering from the room, and Teddy almost immediately forgot her, and he began to enjoy his breakfast in peace, joking around with the younger children and making them laugh by changing his hair to wild colours, or twisting his nose into a funny shape. It was a rather calm breakfast, and Teddy was beginning to relax. (After all, he didn't have his grandmother's sorrowful attitude hanging around him at all times now, did he?)

"Teddy?" Molly called from the sitting room, which was just around the corner. "Teddy, can you please come here?" There was a sniffling sound, like someone was wiping their nose. Molly's voice was shaky, like she was trying to keep herself calm. "Please? I think I need some help." Teddy got up, hoping the younger kids could keep themselves behaved while he went to help Molly.

"What's the problem?" he asked, coming into the sitting room to find her curled up on the couch, her cheeks wet with tears, as she sniffled again. "Oh, Molly, what's happened? What's wrong?" he asked, rushing over to where she was sitting. He hated seeing people cry, hated the feeling of sadness and sorrow that always came with tears. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she sniffed again, swiping at the tears. "No. I just miss my grandmother," she said in a shaky, quivering voice. "My _other _grandmother." Teddy vaguely remembered something about Mrs. Audrey's mother having passed away recently. "I miss her so much, you know? I mean, she lived in Scotland, so we weren't as close of a family, but I really loved her. It was so sudden, too."

"Yeah. That must be hard," Teddy mumbled awkwardly. Sorrow, again, sorrow filling up the air around him. He couldn't escape it, and he wasn't sure how to comfort Molly. Other than his parents, Teddy had never lost anyone close; he wasn't sure how to comfort the grieving girl without hurting her even more. "Do you want a hug?" he asked, and she immediately nodded, throwing her arms around him.

"Thank you for making me feel better, Teddy." She said, still sniffing and wiping away her tears. "You always make me feel better, you're so nice." She giggled, a watery laugh, and Teddy smiled, because at least she wasn't upset anymore. "I always thought you were really cute, though," she said, and Teddy froze, remembering how obsessed with him she had seemed last year.

"Now, Molly…" he began, but Molly was faster, pushing her lips onto his and he gasped, completely startled. She seemed to take that as a positive sign and moved even closer, pressing harder. Teddy pushed her away, and she giggled again. Teddy shook his head, trying to clear it, as he wiped his mouth. _She's still obsessed with me_, he thought to himself, cringing inwardly.

"Thanks for making me feel better, Teddy." She said again, still giggling. "I was so sorrowful, wasn't I? But you always make me feel better, don't you, Teddy? Do you love me, Teddy? Oh, please say you do! I love you, I've always loved you. I have pictures," she said, dropping her voice as she battered her eyelashes at him. "I have pictures of you, and I know lots of stuff about you, like that you love chocolate. Please say you love me."

"Molly, you're eleven years old-"

"Twelve, nearly! Twelve next week."

"Okay, you're twelve, and I'm fifteen. I just…we've got nothing in common, and I'm not even in love with you. I mean, you're a darling, sweet girl, but you're closer to being a little sister to me. Listen," because she looked crestfallen and the sorrow was threatening to fill him up again. "just listen to me. You're not really in love with me, Molly, you're too young. Maybe you'll find a nice boy one day, but not me." She was crying now, angry, sorrowful tears, as she ran off. Teddy frowned, wishing she hadn't been so obsessed, and that she wasn't so upset now.

He wasn't good with girls.


	5. Lessons in Flying

_**For the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies using Teddy/Lucy: mistake. **_

_**For the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 106, Mark Twain. **_

_**For the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using magical object: broomstick. **_

….

Lucy scowled at her watch, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited under the trees. Teddy had promised he would be taking her flying that afternoon, and he still hadn't come yet. She had her broomstick clutched in her right hand, waiting for the familiar face of Teddy Lupin to come bounding up the path of their front driveway, ready to take her away from all her problems for a while. Teddy was the eldest of them all, the only one who could Apparate yet, since Victoire had failed her test last time around; he had promised they would flying for at least an hour or two, and she was supposed to be back by supper.

Lucy was the younger daughter of Percy and Audrey Weasley, the much-forgotten daughter who had never been able to compare to her perfect-in-every-way sister, Molly. In the past few years, she'd been feeling more and more invisible, as if everyone had forgotten she ever existed. That was when Teddy had shown up in her life, her uncle's godson; he paid attention to her, made her feel not so invisible. Although Lucy's friends liked to tease her about it-after all, he was six years older, and very handsome-Lucy wasn't interested in _dating _Teddy. She just liked him because he paid attention to her when no one else did.

That was why it stung just a little that he seemed to have ditched their weekly flying time without any sort of excuse. Had he cancelled without telling her, or was he just leaving her out to dry like everyone always did? Lucy always felt like people took her for granted, just a person who was always there in the background, but never prominent enough to pay attention to. But, she had thought sweet, sweet Teddy was different; she had thought he would never forget about her. Although everyone else always bossed her around, Teddy had never given her a single order or even requested anything of her except that she always be around when he needed her.

Maybe, in the usual rush that came with Christmas time, their meeting had slipped his mind. But that didn't make sense-Teddy was usually so well put-together, and he even had put down on his calendar when they were meeting. It wasn't like him to forget, not when he knew how important this was to her. The teenager began to cry somewhat bitterly, wondering if she had once again been cast away because she just wasn't _good enough_. That's how it always seemed around her house, with her parents, who doted on _perfect Molly_, but only found criticism to give to their younger daughter.

Should she begin to walk back to the house, when it would it become obvious Teddy wasn't coming? Should she just end this stupid hesitating, and make her way back inside, where Molly would ask why she was still here? She didn't want to admit that she'd been stood up by the one person she trusted the most, and she didn't want to have to admit it to _herself _that maybe, just maybe, Teddy didn't see her as being nearly as important as he was to her. Feeling angry, and more than a little ashamed, Lucy found that she had begun to cry.

"I thought I knew you, Teddy Lupin. I thought you were my friend, and that you cared about me." She mumbled to herself quietly, wiping angry tears as she headed back in, her broomstick still clutched in her hand. "I thought you were different, and that you would never ignore me. I guess you were just like everyone else, though, because you don't seem to be coming to get me. I _hate you_, Teddy Lupin!" she shrieked, tossing down her broomstick and running back to the house, swiping away her tears. "_Hate, hate, hate!_"

….

Just then, as Lucy rushed away, crying bitterly, there was a quiet pop at the foot of the garden that belonged to Mr. Percy Weasley. A tall, lanky young man stood at the gate, peering upwards at the hill that hid the Weasley house, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend, Lucy. They were supposed to go flying today, and he'd brought his broomstick. He had even bought a book for her, a thick novel by Mark Twain that they could read together. He knew Lucy loved Mark Twain, and she always looked forward to their time together.

Had she forgotten their scheduled meeting? He wouldn't have blamed her, he nearly forgot himself what with all the flurry of the holidays, and work, and Victoire breaking up with him. But, he hoped she hadn't gotten upset that he was late; he knew how sensitive Lucy was, how she seemed to look up to him and hang on his every word, and he also knew that feeling ignored by one of the few people she trusted might shatter the poor girl's heart. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake in dealing with his sweet, sweet little Lucy.


	6. Hopeless

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Fred: hope. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 103, I doubt it **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using creature: Dementor. **_

_**This takes place not too long after the Victoire incident-maybe 2019? Fred is about sixteen here, and Teddy is twenty-one. **_

….

Fred raised his wand again, imagining, recalling. He remembered the day he got his Hogwarts letter, the day he'd won his first game of Quidditch, the day he'd asked Christina Hoffman out to Hogsmeade. His eyebrows were furrowed and his breath heavy, but nothing came out of the tip of his wand. He scowled, dropping onto his bed with a loud sigh. It never worked, he could never get his Patronus, not even a little wisp. Why did he seem to be the only in his class who still hadn't figured it out?

Fred was dreading going back to school for his sixth year, and not just because he was only one who couldn't do a stupid Patronus. He had been spending his time in class, learning what he could, but school was beginning to fall by the wayside, becoming less and less important as each day. After all, hadn't three of his uncles and his own father dropped out school, and weren't they wildly successful? (Granted, Uncle Harry had been a war hero, Uncle Fred was gone, and Uncle Ron and Dad were running a joke shop, but Fred tended to overlook that part.)

Sure, Dad had dropped out, and he seemed fine, but Fred was sure his parents would _never _allow for him to just quit school, not that Fred really cared what his parents thought of late. After all, they were adults now, and they just didn't understand what it was like being him. Their life seemed so perfect, and all he could see ahead of him was two more boring years that would lead him nowhere. Just then, there was a knock on his door, and Teddy Lupin poked his head in, chewing on a grape pastille.

"Having trouble, Fred?" Teddy asked, popping another candy into his mouth. He offered one to Fred, who shook his head and looked down at his shoes. Teddy Lupin, the cool older brother he had always wanted; Teddy was the oldest, and he always seemed to know so much, but there was no way he'd be able to help Fred now. After all, Teddy had seemed to _love _Hogwarts more than anyone he knew. "Can I help?"

"I doubt it," he mumbled, but found himself opening up to the older boy anyway. "I'm the only one who can't do a stupid Patronus," Fred muttered glumly, scowling at the useless stick of wood in his hand. "I've tried and tried, but nothing seems to be working, and I _hate _Defense class anyway. It's a load of rubbish, and so's the teacher." Teddy gave him a concerned look, and Fred's blood seemed to burn; he hated when people pitied him because he was _that Weasley child_, the one who was named after his own dead uncle, the one who had been getting into trouble for years, hoping his father would see _Fred his son_, and stop seeing him as _Fred his brother. _

"Harry used to not be able to produce a Patronus, did you know that?" Teddy asked, and Fred looked at him in shock. Uncle Harry, the Head of Auror Department, the strongest wizard Fred knew, had once not been able to produce a Patronus? "Yeah, my dad taught him when Harry was in school. Harry had to learn how to face Dementors when he was _thirteen_, can you imagine? He couldn't do it for the longest time."

"But Uncle Harry can produce one now, a real, corporeal one. I've seen it before; Dad and Mum even talk about how Uncle Harry _taught _them how to produce one. How'd he ever figure it out?" Suddenly, Fred was interested. He wasn't often told much about what had happened in those dark years before his birth, and he had certainly never imagined his uncle as anything less than perfect, even as a teenager.

"Because my dad taught him how to _hope. _I know at school all they really tell you is that a Patronus comes with thinking of a good memory, since Dementors are known to feed on negativity and all that, right?" Fred nodded, puzzled. _Hope? _What did hope have to do with anything? "Well, there's another part they usually don't talk about: they hardly ever mention with that happy memory, you've got to fill yourself up with hope-without hope, you'll just fail, because you didn't believe in yourself. Hope is the only way to be able to keep on going time after time, even when it's hard. So, have hope, Fred Weasley." He winked at Fred, smiling kindly. "You can make a Patronus, I know it. Just have hope."

"Hope." Fred repeated, not sure he was hearing things right. Maybe Teddy wasn't as good at giving advice as Fred had thought; maybe he was just crazy. Hope? That's how he'd be able to fight off a Dementor, using hope? What was he five? Hell, he might as well just go jump in a lake and _hope _he didn't drown. What use was hope? It wouldn't make school easier, or make his parents understand him, and it sure as hell wasn't going to help him fight off Dementors.

"I know you doubt me, Fred, but one day you'll understand." Teddy said calmly and kindly. "One day, you'll lose everything dear to you, and finally, only then, will you understand that the one thing they can't take away from you is your hope. When that day comes, you will have hope. I know it's hard, between school and family and expectations, but you've also got to hold onto your hope, Fred. You'll need it soon, I'm sure."

Teddy smiled and turned to leave, with Fred still standing sullenly in the middle of his room. He didn't need hope, he needed answers. Teddy was crazy, wasn't he? How was hope going to fight off Dementors? How was hope going to keep him from dropping out of school? How was hope going to keep James and him out of trouble all the time? Hope was useless.

Fred was _hopeless. _


	7. I will be the light

_**For the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Roxanne: hiding. **_

_**For the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 129, alone.**_

_**For the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using emotion: hate.**_

….

Did you hear that?

_Shhh. _

Do you hear it?

_Shhh, I said. _

But it's up there, it's everywhere, and it scares me.

_Quiet. The darkness might get you. _

I don't like the darkness.

_Shhh. _

….

"Teddy!" the little girl cried, running towards the tall boy with the electric blue hair. Her dark pigtails swung back and forth as she ran into his arms, sobbing. "Teddy, please make it go away!" Her face revealed the terror in her eyes as Teddy bent down to pick her up. She was shaking like a leaf, and Teddy wondered what it was that could have scared the young girl so terribly.

"What's wrong, Roxy? Has someone hurt you?" he asked, looking her over for blood or bruises. Roxanne didn't seem to have any visible marks on her except for the tear stains running down her face, and Teddy wondered if maybe the little girl had gotten scared of a noise or a tapping sound. She was four, and wont to do so, when it was dark and she'd had a bad dream.

"It's so dark in my room, Teddy, and it scares me." She said, sniffling. "It's so dark, and I can't move the curtains, and Lily said if I couldn't be quiet, I'd have to leave. But I just _couldn't _be quiet, I was so scared. It's a lot darker here at Gram's than it is at my house-I don't like it. I don't _like _darkness." She hid her face in his shoulder, sobbing loudly and trembling in his arms.

"Do you want me to go get rid of the darkness for you, Roxy? We can fight it off together, like we do with the dragons. Remember that, remember how brave you were? Oh, no, no. Don't cry, Rox," for she had begun to do exactly that, big heavy tears that made him wet. But Teddy didn't really mind, he just hugged her closer. "Please don't cry. Don't you want to fight off the monsters with me, Roxy?"

"I want to hide," she said, still crying. "I want to hide, I'm too scared. That's what everyone else says. They say that I'm the baby, that I'm a little old crybaby who can't do anything. I'm always crying, and Fred says it's on account of me being a silly little girl." She took several big gulps of air, her eyes wide with fright and just a hint of anger.

"I'll hide with you," Teddy said, setting her down on Mrs. Weasley's sofa, and grabbing one of the many heavy blankets that were always sitting around the Burrow. "We can hide together in here, and we'll be safe." Roxy gave him a disbelieving stare, and he grinned to himself, wrapping the blanket around them tightly. "I'm a little nervous about all this dark, too, Rox. Maybe even a little scared."

"You, scared?" she asked, amazed. She'd never met a big kid who was afraid of the dark-her own brother, Freddie, claimed that nightlights (which was what she usually slept with) were for babies and little kids. "I can protect you, Teddy." She said, snuggling closer. "We can hide with each other, and I'll protect you so you can be safe."

….

Is it still there?

_It's always there. It's darkness, and it never leaves. _

I don't like it, make it go away.

_You can't get rid of darkness. _

I hate it! I hate the darkness.

_Then hide. Hide from it-that's all you can truly do. _

….

"What are you doing, Roxy?" Teddy asked the young girl, who was sitting quietly in a tree, wearing a faded hoodie and shorts, her feet bare. She was tucked quietly between two thick branches, almost hidden by leaves. Teddy wouldn't have noticed her, but for the abandoned trainers dropped on the ground below her. "Aren't you cold? It's October, and you've barely got anything on."

"I'm fine." She mumbled, not looking down. Teddy sighed, clambering into the tree. Roxy was eleven now, though still as slender as she had been as a younger girl; her dark hair fell into ringlets around her face, hiding her copper-coloured eyes. "I like it up here, really. It's quiet and peaceful." Teddy, who was twenty-two and not as flexible as before, struggled to maintain his grip on the slippery branches.

"You look upset, Rox. Is everything okay? Those boys at school aren't bullying you, right?" he asked her, swinging onto the branch across from hers, giving Roxanne a concerned look. She seemed sad, and Teddy knew that Roxanne usually only hid up here when she was upset, like when she was five, and Freddie had gone off to Hogwarts, leaving her alone. Suddenly, everything clicked, and Teddy peered at her closely. "Is it because you're the only one left?"

Roxanne looked up at him, startled, her eyes wide. Teddy could see she'd been crying, and he wanted to move to comfort the poor girl. She was the youngest of them all, always waiting to get to Hogwarts, watching as her cousins left her one by one. And now, Roxy was eleven, and she _still _couldn't go to Hogwarts, the unfortunate girl with a September birthday. Teddy recalled how upset she had been at her last birthday.

"I just wish I could go with them," she said, balling her fists up, her voice tight. "I want to be a _part _of what they have, and I never get to. It's always "Oh, you're too young" or "you'll understand when your older". They're keeping me in the dark, and I _hate _it. It's so stupid, how they won't tell me about the sorting, because it's meant to be _so _impressive. I just want to go with them, and be with my cousins. "I'm so alone, though! Everyone else is grown up, or growing up, and they've left me, the stupid baby. Why can't I ever do that, going on adventures like Louis, or being successful like Molly? Why do I always have to be the baby?"

"Sometimes, that's just the way it is, Rox. Sometimes, you've got to be the oldest, the most mature and responsible, always feeling like there's this pressure on you; sometimes, you're the youngest, with everyone excluding you and picking you. It sucks, I know, always being in the dark about everything, being the last to know anything. But, I'll tell you this, Roxanne Weasley, I will _always _be here to bring some light to your darkness. I'm not letting you hide anymore."

….

Oh, I feel so alone here.

_You're never alone, you've got me. _

Even when it's so dark?

_Especially then. I'm here to protect you. _

I hate the darkness.

_I am here to bring the light. _


	8. Clear Skies

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Rose: clear skies. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Institution: St. Mungo's.**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 69, death's doorstep. **_

….

There were clear skies that day at St. Mungo's, as Teddy sat outside Arthur Weasley's room, waiting for…nothing, really. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that he could see as Teddy sat waiting for….everything, really. His bench was empty excusing him, and he hadn't seen anyone walk past in over twenty minutes. There was a vague babble of noise outside one of the rooms-two Healers chatting to each other-but other than that, he was completely alone, with a lovely view of the clear skies, and a sinking feeling in his heart. Arthur Weasley, who might even now be on death's doorstep, sat calmly in a bed that was no more than sixty metres away, and he was too scared to go in.

"Is he any better?" Rose asked, settling on the bench next to him; Teddy jumped a little, already on edge from the anxiety that was making him fidget and made his hair change colours as his moods changed. "Do they know anything more yet?" From the tension in her voice, Teddy guessed that she, too, was burnt far past her last straw would allow, mentally. He didn't blame her-Arthur wasn't even his grandfather, and yet, he was the closest thing Teddy had to one. He could understand the pain that she ought to be feeling right now, the pain that must be so hard to keep bottled inside.

"No," he said morosely, and Rose's face fell, and she put her head in her hands. Teddy moved an awkward arm around her, wondering if she was crying. Rose was a bit different from most girls he'd met; she hardly ever seemed to cry, or even look upset most times. He'd heard the phrase 'emotionally stunted' thrown around before, but Rose didn't have trouble showing emotions-she just wasn't a crier, and Teddy understood that; he wasn't usually the most emotion person ever.

"I just don't want to go through this again. First Gram, then Grandpa, and now Papa. I just don't want to lose another grandparent, I don't want to go through this again. She seemed to stifle a sob. "I just don't want to do this, Teddy. I don't want wake up every morning and wonder who's next. Mum, Dad? Gramma, Hannai? Tabby?" Her voice broke then, and tears flooded Rose's eyes, pouring down her cheeks as the thought of losing her family finally kicked in.

Teddy moved in to hug her, trying to comfort the grieving woman. He understood how she felt, understood the tears in her eyes; she gasped and shuddered and cried into his arms, and Teddy knew then that the walls Rose had been building around herself were crashing down, now. She was a mess, calling everyone several times a day, asking for updates on Arthur, checking to make sure everyone was okay. Rose's wife, Hannai, claimed the poor woman hadn't been sleeping in days, just hunched over in their daughter's bed, making sure nothing happened to the five year old.

Arthur had gotten sick so suddenly, and no one had really expected anything-no one had suspected anything. Sure, he was eighty-seven, and no longer as spry or energetic as he once was, but this was a man who still insisted on taking care of himself, convinced that, though he was aging, he could still manage the things he could thirty years ago. Back before all the greyed hair and weak bones, back before he'd been talked into retiring permanently. Arthur Weasley was a strong man, and seeing him so weak had appeared to crush Rose's barriers. Teddy had never seen her so open, so fragile.

"I'm not sure if he's going to make it, Rose," Teddy began awkwardly, knowing he was messing things up. After all, his own grandmother was still alive and well at eighty-four; Teddy hadn't know too many older people who had passed away, though he had attended Victoire's maternal grandparents funeral a few years back. "I can't make promises like that, you know. But," he gripped her hand tightly, looking at her with determination. "I promise I will be here for you, Hannai, and Tabitha, no matter what happens-whether he lives or not, I'm always going to be here to help you through it."

"Thanks," Rose said, squeezing his hand. She let out a shaky laugh, leaning against his shoulder. "You know, when we were younger, I always thought you had the answers to everything. I mean, you were the oldest, and you went to Hogwarts before anyone else I knew. I figure you were nearly as smart as the adults, at least." She laughed again, though Teddy could see her hands shaking, her lips quivering with withheld sobs. "And now? Now that we're older and we've got kids of our own? I still think you're one of the smartest guys I know, Teddy. I mean, even when you don't have an answer, you know how to make someone feel better."

"Really?" Teddy asked, surprised. He'd never seen himself as all that smart or helpful to his younger 'cousins'-mostly he'd just been behaving the way he'd expected an older brother to behave, like he cared, like he was interested. He hadn't noticed the affect he was having on these other kids' lives, hadn't noticed the way he was helping to shape and change them into the people they were today. "Thanks, I didn't know I was that important to you, Rose."

Just then, a Healer came up, clipboard in hand, and a smile on her face. The two of them stood up eagerly, hearts thumping a little bit faster as she stopped in front of them. _Was it possible? Was Arthur fine? Could they all go hope happy and still a connected family? _The Healer was smiling broadly now at the sight of them, but Teddy didn't care; all he wanted to know was if Arthur was okay, if his grandfather was okay. He didn't want to see Rose cry ever again.

"He's fine," the Healer said. "Perfectly fine, just a little scare that comes with age. It happens as you get older, your knees get weaker, and you fall down all over the place, but Mr. Weasley should be fine. In fact-and I've told his wife already-he should be back home within two weeks; we just want to keep him for a little while to get him back in shape, and then he'll be right as rain, back on home." Teddy could've kissed her, he was so excited.

"Teddy!" Rose shrieked happily, hugging him tightly. Teddy swung her around like he used when she was a little girl, the way he now swung around his own six year old daughters. "Teddy, he's okay! He's gonna be fine, did you hear that? Papa's gonna be just fine!" She laughed and they hugged again, just so glad to be able to celebrate together.

Outside were only clear skies, and Teddy Lupin didn't have a care in the world.

….

_**Sorry, I struggled on what to refer to the 'grandparents' as, especially the grandfathers, having lost one in '91 and the other in '05, and a grandmother in '03. I'm just not sure what all the different grandparents' names are, or even how to write about someone dealing with the potential loss of a grandparent; to put into perspective of the earlier dates, I was born in '98. **_


	9. A Need For Words

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Hugo: words. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 340, my word. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using non-magical object: mask. **_

….

Hugo had never been good with words-a shy boy with a stutter, he hated public speaking and presentations. His parents did not understand, but at least, after a long battle, accepted, his aversion to speaking ("After all," his mum had explained to teachers and principals and counsellors time and time again. "it's not that he _can't _speak, it's that he chooses not to. He's no different from any other child, really.") and Hugo hid behind hand gestures and the written language. Psychiatrists had been visited one after the other, all trying to crack the code and open Hugo's mouth.

But Hugo, silent Hugo, continued not to talk, not when he could let his writing do that for him. He did not need to say "I am hungry", when he could feel so safe writing out _I'd like a sandwich, Mum__. _He knew it put pressure on his parents, and he knew it just made life more stressful for everyone he interacted with, but a pen was the only way Hugo could explain how he felt-he just couldn't get the words out of his mouth, not the way others could. They could talk, but Hugo could not, and so he made do with the words that jumped out on a page. There was nothing he could not say that he could not write down, after all. The others just didn't understand him, they didn't see the world the same way he did.

Maybe because he didn't speak often, Hugo had learned how to _see_ things normal people didn't usually see. He could tell when his mum was angry and his dad just didn't understand. He knew when Rose was struggling under her full course load, but didn't want people to think she couldn't handle it. He knew when Uncle Harry went all quiet, it was because he was thinking, not because he was sad. Because Hugo didn't speak, he _saw. _And what he saw was a young man who seemed to be teetering on the edge of sorrow, a young man who stayed silent, and a mask on his face, hiding the way he really felt from everyone else; everyone except Hugo, who saw everything.

Teddy Lupin was sprawled across Hugo's grandmum's rug, supposedly asleep, though Hugo knew different. He wasn't very close to Teddy-after all, Teddy was loud and adventurous, while Hugo was quiet and shy. But Hugo saw a young man who was not asleep, merely trying to keep himself together, and he saw down next to the sprawling boy, notebook in hand. He recorded his conversations in the old notebook, wanting a way of communicating where he didn't have to speak. Most people found it odd, but Teddy only opened his eyes and smiled at Hugo as he settled next to the young man, beginning to write.

_You've got a mask on_, he told the nineteen year old, handing Teddy his beat-up notebook. _It's a happy mask, and you're hiding something that isn't happy. Why've you got a mask on, Teddy? Is it because you miss Victoire, now that she's at school and you aren't? Is that why you're so sad and pretending? _The older boy gave him a shocked look, surprised and uncertain of how Hugo could know such a thing. He had faked the happy look on his face for days now, trying to pretend like he wasn't upset about seeing off his girlfriend, not being able to see her until Christmas.

_You've been sad, haven't you, Teddy?_Hugo asked the older boy, and Teddy nodded, still shocked. He didn't know this little child very well, the quiet entity that existed alongside his louder sister, but looking at Hugo's brown eyes, he saw a little boy who noticed _everything_, even if he couldn't tell anyone. _You don't use your words, Teddy, but I know how you feel. Sometimes, I put on a mask as well, when I got sad. Sometimes, my mum and dad put on masks when they don't want me to see how much they hurt-but I see it. I can always see it when people hide with masks. _The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Teddy picking at a hole in his sleeve as he thought.

"Why don't you talk, Hugo?" Teddy asked him suddenly. "Why don't you ever speak to anyone? I know you can-I've seen you use your words before-but you always seem too shy to speak, and you just write in that notebook all the time. Is it because of the stutter, or is there something else that keeps the words from coming out?" Hugo shrugged, as if he had never really thought about it before. It was as if he hadn't really ever considered staying silent-he just _did_, because it was easier, and because he was Hugo, the silent one.

_Sometimes, writing down my words is just easier to do. People don't misunderstand me when I write, and I can't mess up this way. My words make sense written down, a lot more than when I talk. After all, I can lie about how I feel if I spoke, and if I spoke all the time like everyone else, my head would be full of the words I've said, and not the things I've heard others say. I'm shy, Teddy, but I'm fine this way. I'm fine being quiet if it means I can see past everyone else's masks. _

Hugo got up then, smiling shyly at the older boy, who was still lounging on the rug, confused. He had never considered the fact that his head was so full of the words he had spoken, instead of listening to everyone else. And here was this little nine year old boy-the silent child-who understood people more than Teddy could ever hope to. Yes, he was shy, and yes he was silent, but Hugo knew how to use his voice, even if it had to be written down.

He didn't have the same need for words that everyone else did.

….

_**Hugo, I imagine, sort of has the same issue as me, where we both had/have stutters and became silent in an effort to hide them. When I was younger, I really did go through a stage in which I wrote down everything instead of speaking, because I was so afraid of messing up. **_


	10. Not too Much Trouble

_**Written for the 'Word Challenge' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass, using the limit of 950 words (25 word leeway) and the prompts: "Be serious!", "Yellow is definitely your colour.", Snowflakes, and Faerytales. **_

_**Also written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 335, It's nobody's business. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using emotion: determination. **_

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/James: trouble. **_

_**Total word count, excluding author's note: 975. **_

….

James was trouble, there was no denying that. He had been trouble from day one, a mischievous little boy who was always looking for things to do. James was constantly getting into messes and arguments and fights; often times, Teddy would see him at the dinner table with a new bruise or scrape. James liked to fight, and he liked to make trouble-it was a part of who he was, just like how Teddy was a Metamorphmagus. James was determined to cause chaos, and it was just Teddy's luck that he was baby-sitting the eight year old today, that little mischievous glint in his brown eyes.

"Be serious, James!" Teddy all but cried, trying to catch the young boy, who only gleefully kept running around the sitting room, yelling loudly. James rushed past him, laughing loudly, and he slipped through Teddy's fingers, his sweater just skimming on Teddy's fingertips. Teddy scowled, wishing he could just calm the young boy down, but James is just too fast, too wild, and too much trouble for him. He can't help but sigh, following after him, calling out to the boy to calm down and settle.

Harry and Ginny had taken the younger children out shopping for groceries, but James hadn't wanted to go. Why had Teddy even dared to agree to baby-sit the whirlwind of trouble that was James Potter? The entire afternoon had been a disaster, ever since the second the Potter's car had pulled out of the garage. James had rushed off to grab as many cookies as he possibly could, and had begun yelling at the top of his voice. And now he was running around the entire house, dipping his fingers in yellow paint and spreading his fingers across the wall as well as Teddy's shirt and hair.

"James, you've got to calm down, seriously. You're driving me insane, and I can't concentrate. Can't you behave even for just a few minutes, and let me relax? Harry and Ginny are going to be home soon and they're going to get mad when they find out that you've eaten all the cookies, and that you've painted on the walls." He sighed, not hearing the boy anywhere, and shivered. It was winter break, and the house was cold, even if he was wrapped up in a jacket. (They were supposed to have coca later that night, but James had drunken it all this morning.) "Where are you?"

"It's nobody's business where I am!" the little boy cried from his hiding spot behind the couch, and began giggling loudly, before squirming from the back of the couch and tearing up the staircase. Teddy sighed again, leaning his head against the wall, and heard a small _sploosh _as he knocked over the yellow paint can, feeling it run over his trainers, which had been blue up until this point. He groaned, hearing James giggling from where he was, peeking between the bars of the banister, pointing at Teddy.

"I'm going to murder you when I get ahold of you, James, do you hear me? _Murder you._" Teddy yelled up at him, but James only smirked, rushing off again somewhere upstairs. He was now out of sight, and Teddy could only hear the pounding of feet, as he trudged his way into the bathroom, trying to scrub off the yellow paint from his hair and clothes. Just his luck, Teddy thought, scowling. The paint was coming off, having quickly dried on his arms and in his hair. "Murder!" he yelled again for good measure, moving towards the staircase.

As he trudged towards the staircase, Teddy passed by the back window that led into the yard, and he paused, staring out. The grass had gone white, frosted thickly with cold snow, making the whole place look like some sort of winter wonderland. Teddy stared in amazement, barely noticing the pattering of not-so-quiet footsteps behind him. James had come downstairs, curious as to why Teddy wasn't still chasing him. James came up beside the older boy, who could only point wordlessly at the cold spectacle outside. It was the first snowfall of the year.

"Look, James," Teddy whispered, pointing out the window. Snowflakes danced gracefully to the ground, and the entire scene looked like something out of a faerytale. James came padding up behind him, just as silent, just as amazed as Teddy was. The two boys stood there for a few minutes in silence, the house settling around them. Neither boy said a word, entranced by the snowflakes that flitted back and forth just outside their window. They stood side by side that way until the front door creaked open.

"Teddy? James? We're back," Ginny called, and James immediately scurried off from his spot, the magic faerytale broken in an instant. Ginny and Harry were carrying shopping bags, while Lily chattered on about some breakfast cereal she had gotten. Albus had already slinked off, the quiet, elusive middle child. Ginny did a double-take at the sight of Teddy, who was still splattered with yellow paint, and at James, who was covered in cookie crumbs.

"Yellow is _definitely _your colour," Harry said, chuckling as he scooped up the now sleeping James. Teddy scowled, wanting to march off to the bathroom to wash out his hair with a nice hot shower, grumbling about mischievous little boys who were determined to ruin his day with childish shenanigans. The magic of the first snowfall had disappeared in an instant, the two boys so quickly brought back down to the real world. "Looks like you two had fun while we were out, huh? Make a big mess, did you, James? Get into trouble?" He smiled again, but it wasn't angry smile.

"No," Teddy said nonchalantly. Harry's smile and James' cookie-covered face couldn't help but make him smile as well. "James wasn't too much trouble, actually."


	11. Humpty Dumpty

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Albus: stumble. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 364, glass. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using gemstone: emerald. **_

….

Albus always took the same path to and from school each day. It was a simple shortcut-shaving off a whole two minutes and sixteen seconds from his route-and he enjoyed the ten minutes of solitude that came with walking across the brick wall that led all the way down the street. Albus wasn't a big kid, at only 114 cm, but he had great balance, carefully placing one foot in front of the other as he walked. Mum didn't know he took this path home, or else she would have stopped him. After all, the wall was over three metres off the ground, and he had to clamber over trees and avoid ivy wrapped around columns to keep from tumbling. The others thought he was reckless for walking this way every day, always saying he'd slip off one day, stumble, and hurt himself, with no one to rescue him.

But, he liked his route, liked the quiet thoughtfulness that came with his brick wall. The other kids-his brother and sister, and the others who lived in his neighbourhood-they were too loud, too boisterous. He couldn't think around them, couldn't concentrate on the world around him. Albus was…_different_, was one way you could put it. He was quiet and curious, always taking a step back to analyze situations, considering choices. His brother, James, and his sister, Lily, however liked to jump in head-first. They didn't look for traps or alternate choices. That was why he walked home on this wall; he didn't care about the danger, he was only interested in the peace that came with being alone. He was only interested in the strength that came from his brick wall, never noticing the wobble in his step, or the way he seemed to sway while walking.

Albus was a strange child, even for a middle child. He blended in perfectly between his boisterous siblings, hiding on either side of the noisy bookends. Though he had his father's dark hair-his father's emerald eyes-he was not the ball of energy and frustration that his father was. Everyone else was loud, a burning fire; Albus was withdrawn and quiet, a glass figure who'd forgotten what it was like to fall. He walked the same path every day home from school, brave, convinced that the glass boy could never stumble, could never break and smash into a million pieces. After all, wasn't he brave and true, even if it wasn't always obvious? Wasn't he strong and independent? Wasn't that why he walked this way home, instead of sticking to the safety of the streets below. He wanted to prove to…._himself _that he was strong, that he was brave, that he was smart.

Albus, like any nine year old, believed himself to be invincible. _Here _was the glass figure that could never break, the glass that never shattered or cracked. The boy who walked three metres above the ground and never stumbled. He was brave, he was strong, and he was oh, so _foolish. _Because he was three metres above the ground, but to fall was a totally different thing. He fell three metres-he fell to the end of the earth, and his nine year old dreams of never ending life shattered like glass. Because Albus walked home one day-a day just like any other, for the most part-but that day, he walked home with a stumble in his step.

He laughed and walked maybe a little faster than he ought to that day, a cold one in October, but he didn't care. At home, waiting for him, was his dad, back home from a mission. At home was a warm house and lots of time to sit around and just talk. Albus wasn't paying attention, thinking about what he'd tell his father when he saw him: he'd talk about football and how well he was doing in school. He'd ask if Dad had heard anything about Teddy, and he'd ask for a story or two about Hogwarts, like he always did. Albus smiled to himself as he walked across the wall, not paying attention to the ivy growing there, which had been getting thicker recently. He stumbled across a particularly thick part, throwing his arms out to keep balanced. It didn't work.

_And he fell. _

….

Albus woke up to a firm hand gripping his, hair tickling his nose. He didn't remember much of anything, except clambering up one tree, and then another, leaves sticking from his hair and bunching in his pockets. He'd been walking home, hadn't he? He'd been crossing the brick wall, considering to himself the different types of leaves around him, the different flowers that grew in the gardens below. But he remembered nothing more than that, and he certainly didn't understand why he was now in his room, with a hand gripping his.

Albus looked down at the person who had his hand, seeing Teddy at the edge of his bed. The older boy was sitting, awake and alert, gripping tightly onto the nine year old's hand, his eyes flashing the same emerald green as Albus', as Harry's. He seemed anxious, nervous, and almost twitchy as Albus' eyes fluttered down to meet the emerald orbs in front of him. Immediately, Teddy pulled his hand away, moving closer to Albus, touching his face, feeling his pulse. Albus watched him in confusion, trying to figure out if something had happened. Had he gotten sick? _No, Al would have remembered something like that. _Was someone dead? _Why would he be in bed, then? _

"Has something happened?" he asked Teddy, his voice quiet and hoarse. Teddy was watching him cautiously, like he might shatter any moment. "Has someone been hurt, Teddy? Why am I in bed? What's going on?" He was beginning to grow angry as Teddy did not answer, only watching him with a cautious gaze, his eyes occasionally dropping to the blanket that covered Albus' legs. Al frowned, trying to twitch the blanket off with his feet, but the blanket did not move.

"You fell off the wall," Teddy's voice was soft, empty of anything but strangled emotions, and that was the part that made Albus nervous. He had always seen Teddy as this brash, man-with-a-plan sort of peon, and now he looked just as lost and confused as Albus felt. He had fallen off a wall, okay. Broken bones could be mended, couldn't they? What was the problem, what was wrong with him, that it made Teddy seem so afraid? He didn't know, and Albus wasn't so sure he wanted to find out just then, but Al had always been curious, stumbling towards things that fascinated him, even when he knew they were dangerous. Maybe that was why he had always liked taking the possibly dangerous path every day to and from school, because he was curious, and he didn't care.

"It's not permanent, you know," Teddy explained hesitantly, but Albus had no idea what he was talking about. "The Healers say your legs should be fine within a few months, but you're going to have some trouble walking until then. You know, temporary paralysis, and eventually, when you can walk again, you'll need leg braces to help you walk. Healer Ramsey said it's a good thing Mrs. Hadley was walking that way, or you could have been alone for ages, and they couldn't have worked on your legs so quickly."

"I'm paralysed?" he asked Teddy, because it was the only part that had made sense amongst all the rambling. "I can't walk anymore?" He was thinking about how much he loved to run, how much he loved to climb trees. Did they allowed disabled people into Hogwarts? What if he couldn't get into Hogwarts now, and he'd be stuck at home, like a Squib? "What's going to happen to me now, Teddy? What am I going to do if I can't walk or run or play? I want to go to Hogwarts, what's going to happen?" His voice had risen in pitch as he panicked, but Teddy only laid a calm hand on Al's shoulder.

"It's only temporary, Healer Ramsey said. You'll be fine enough by the time you're ready for Hogwarts, don't worry. You won't be able to walk for a while-it's going to be at least until next year before you can consider even taking the leg braces off-but you'll be fine. You're not even really paralysed, Al. You're just in shock right now, your legs are sore and are having difficulty functioning. You stumbled, Al, and I wasn't there to catch you." He looked away, as if hiding tears. "I'm going to be there for you next time. You're never going to stumble again." Albus reached out, taking his hand.

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall," he murmured quietly. "Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. And all the King's horses, and all the King's men couldn't put Humpty together again." He was shattered glass, a ruined picture, with messy black hair, and emerald eyes, and two legs that weren't working. He had stumbled, and he had messed up. What if they couldn't fix him? What if he was destined to remain broken for the rest of his life, and there was nothing they could do to help him, just like in the poem?

"I'm going to be there, Albus," Teddy said again, firmly. "You're _never _going to stumble again."

_And he meant it. _


	12. Stretched too Thin

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Teddy/Lily: spider web. **_

_**Also for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 254, spiders. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using non-magical object: paintbrush. **_

….

These were the fractures in their life, the cracks, and the teeny-tiny spider web-thin lines that separated what_ happened _from _what could have happened. _The little slivers of life, represented by choices and decisions that had been made, and then made again. She had taken one path, and he another. Long, winding paths that would slowly separate them over the years, pulling apart like tugging at a spider web until it pulled apart. Eventually, they'd get pulled too far, and the web would get stretched too thin, and then where would they be? They'd chosen their path, and that was left was to take the first step.

….

Teddy had decided to go on a trip to Bulgaria, part of a special team of Aurors sent as body-guards to the Minister of Magic. It had been a big deal, being one of the chosen few deemed worthy enough to go, and he wasn't the sort to look down his nose at any chances like this. After all, he might never be asked to do something quite so _exciting _ever again in his entire life. His superiors had recommended him as more than valuable, and all he had to do was _sign _here, and off he'd be for an adventure far, far away. He was twenty-four, and ready to _do _something with his life.

Lily had decided not to see him off, fourteen and angry. Why was he leaving her behind, why did he get to go on grand adventures, but she was stuck at Hogwarts, just a measly little third year, practically a baby in his eyes? Teddy had always promised to never leave her, and now he was married to Torie, and he was going to be in Bulgaria for six months, maybe a year. She was angry at him, angry at whoever had decided to take away her big brother and leave her behind at Hogwarts. After all, when would her adventure come? When would she be allowed to go off and see the world, and _do _something with her life?

"_A year,_" he had told her confidently, kissing her cheek as he prepared to Apparate off to the train station. Mum and Dad were seeing him off-Albus and James, too-but Lily remained behind, sulking. Her favourite brother was leaving, taking with him her favourite cousin, Torie. "_It'll only be a year or so, Lils. A year, maybe two, but no more. Why the long face, Flower, why so glum? I'll be back before you know it. You'll see, time will fly while you're at school-why, you'll hardly even notice I'm gone." _But she did notice, and it hurt terribly to know she couldn't write a letter; there was nowhere to send it to, after all, as this mission was meant to be done as quietly as possible.

She had remained behind in her room while everyone else left to see Teddy and Torie off, throwing things, smashing pictures and eventually sinking to the floor, clinging to a pillow and crying. It wasn't fair that he got to go off and have adventures, and leave her behind. It wasn't fair that he was allowed to guide her through her life, only to just leave her behind, hear-broken and confused. Lily had at one point thought she might be in love with the blue-haired Metamorphmagus, but she knew now it was the sort of love that came with spending so much time with one person, the sort of love that came with making one person your _rock_, your _best friend. _

And he had left her behind.

….

She painted all day long, glad to be _done _with her sixth year at Hogwarts, glad to finally be back home. Lily wasn't looking forward to the quickly approaching September 1st, just twenty days away-it seemed like her sixth year had just ended, and now her very last was speedily approaching. Lily wasn't the best artist (That would probably be Louis or Roxy) but she could paint decently enough, pictures of things like dogs or food. Today, though, she'd been painting a picture of spider webs, little delicate things that glimmered in the sunlight. Lily wasn't sure why the webs fascinated her, why she felt drawn to collect them, capture them in her artwork. Maybe the spider webs reminded her of life, always so fragile, so easily torn. Lily wasn't afraid of spiders-no, fear was never a word she would have used-but something about them set her off. Maybe it was the eight legs, the beady eyes, the way they scurried across the wall, peeking into corners. But Lily wasn't afraid of spiders, not like Rose was, who shrieked and ran away at the sight of them.

She loved painting spider webs, always hiding them in each painting she did, a little inside joke just for her. Well, and Teddy too, but he wasn't around to laugh about it. No, Teddy was still in Bulgaria, still just too far, just too deep into his mission to bother contacting her. _Two fucking years_, he'd promised her, and that had been in February of 2022, just after her fourteenth birthday, when he had started packing for the trip. He had left later that June, taking Torie with him. It was August of 2025 now, and she was seventeen, ready to move on, ready to just _forget _about the bastard who'd left her behind. Because their relationship was as fragile as a spider-web now, and she wasn't sure if it was the sort she was interested in painting. After all, the thinner the web, the easier it was to pull apart, and three years in Bulgaria was _more _than enough to spread their relationship thinner than a string.

Lily sighed, setting her paintbrush down. She was too distracted to focus on her painting, too angry to do anything but swirl her paintbrush around in dirty paint water, scowling. Teddy had been gone for three years-_three fucking years now_-and she wasn't even sure if he was still alive. Had that been why he and Torie married so quickly the December before they left; had they known even then that the two of them wouldn't even be around for a proper wedding? Three fucking years, and not a single letter. How old was he now? Twenty-seven? And she was seventeen, taller and slimmer and more grown-up than the gangly fourteen year old he'd left. Would Teddy recognise her, or would she be nothing more than a stranger to him when he finally came back, if he ever came back at all?

Teddy had always been her favourite brother, even if he wasn't technically her brother at all. He was ten years older than she, and Lily had seen Teddy as a source of comfort, and of wisdom. After all, he had been in Hogwarts since she was an infant-surely, he must have learned something in the nearly ten years that he existed without her. And Teddy was just warmer than anyone else, more considering, the self-appointed guider of the next generation. He was smarter and less reckless than James, who was usually only trying to live in the moment, causing mayhem wherever he wanted. Teddy was better at comforting than Albus, who lived in his own little world of barely-spoken problems.

Lily had always loved Teddy best, even though she didn't think she'd ever admit it. He was the reason she'd gotten into Quidditch, the reason she hadn't given up on painting, even though Lily wasn't the best at it. He was the one she went to for homework problems and people problems. Teddy was the one who held her hand and taught her where to go. Teddy was the one who helped build up the fragile spider web that was their relationship, and he was the one who'd stretched it too far when he left for Bulgaria, when he left Lily behind.

Didn't he know how much it hurt to be left behind?

….

Teddy opened the door quietly, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the brass doorknob. He hadn't been back in England for three whole years. Things at the Potter house seemed to have changed immensely. Instead of the old motorcycle that Harry usually kept in his garage, there was a big silver truck. The shrubs had been taken out, replaced by a bed of marigolds. The house had been painted over, he could tell; these were all little differences, not very big changes, but they reminded him of the painful separation between him and his family. He wondered how Lily would react when she saw him-if she even wanted to see him. She'd be…._seventeen_? Merlin, he could still remember the little fourteen year old running after him on wobbly legs, begging him not to go. Lily would be an adult now, still with the face of a child, but her childhood was drawing to a close-the real world was just around the corner for her.

No doubt she'd probably be angry when she saw him, devastated. He would be mad, too, if she had left him for three years and then not been able to say a word. Merlin….she didn't know about the baby, Remus, who had been born in Bulgaria. Lily didn't know about all the new stories he had for her, or the presents, or the fact that he had put up about a thousand of her painting all throughout their flat, as a way of reminding Teddy of his little flower. She didn't know about the letters he'd written every day, the ones he'd burnt, the ones he kept locked away in a trunk. Lily didn't know about how much he'd missed her, wishing he could just send _one _letter, call her just _one _time. She didn't know how much it hurt to have been physically separated from his little sister. They were like a spider web, being pulled apart, being pulled so thin, until the two ends were stretched to their limit-he didn't know his little sister anymore. She wouldn't recognise him.

Lily didn't know how much it had hurt to leave her behind.


	13. Happy Birthday to Me

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Dominique: fireworks.**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 428, where are you going.**_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using creature: Veela. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter life, using amaryllis: **__Write about a beautiful person._

….

_May 2 2026_

Victoire took her son's hand, leading the young boy through their backyard. The Lupin house was brightly lit, with candles floating everywhere, just above people's heads. The trees had been covered in faery lights, and someone had turned on a radio, which was blasting out a Cauldron Hopper's song that she vaguely recognised. Remus stuck close to his mother, clutching her hand as they waded through a crowd of people. She waved at co-workers and at family, greeting a few by name and occasionally stopping to chat, but Victoire was looking for someone in particular, someone she had yet to see.

Dominique, Victoire's younger sister, had promised she would be coming to see Victoire on her twenty-sixth birthday. The two sisters had been distant over the past few years, ever since Dominique moved to France shortly after graduating, and Victoire was anxious to see her sister once more. Just then, the sky lit up with fireworks, and she heard her uncle George laugh loudly, setting off another one of his rockets, which exploded into millions of dancing colours and lights. Remus stopped, gawking up at the sky. He was two, now, already painfully beautiful, with light, golden hair and honey-coloured eyes.

There was another flash of light behind them as more fireworks went off, and Remus shrieked excitedly, running off to chase the colourful flames. Victoire started after him, trying to find the tiny boy amongst the taller people who obscured her view. Fireworks flashed and boomed, and Victoire's head was spinning as she glanced around for her son, anxious. Remus was usually a very nervous child, and he didn't like to be separated from his mum or dad. Just then, she saw a woman with long blonde hair lean over and scoop up a giggling Remus. She was probably a few years younger than Victoire, but looked familiar, and Victoire gasped, walking over determinedly.

"Domi? Domi, is that you?" she cried, rushing over to the woman, who turned with confusion in her blue eyes. Victoire hadn't seen her sister in six years, but she looked even more beautiful than the last time they'd seen each other. Though the two women were only one-eigth Veela, they both had been born with their mother's good looks and grace, which was probably part of the reason why there was a rather attractive man standing not too far from Dominique's side, as if guarding her protectively.

"Torie?" Dominique asked, her eyes widening as she saw her sister rushing over. "Torie, oh, hello." She didn't seem as happy to see Victoire as Victoire was to see her. "Did you miss me, Torie?" Dominique asked, and her blue eyes searched Victoire's anxiously. Dominique, at twenty-three, was the younger sister, always looking up to Victoire, feeling like she had to live up to this older girl's reputation, that she had to also create her own path separate from Victoire. It was part of the reason why she'd run off to France, where she wasn't _Victoire's sister, _but rather just another individual living their life. But now, back in England, in the Lupin's back yard, all her old fears of not being good enough were rushing back.

"Of course I missed you, Domi," Victoire said, moving to hug her sister. Dominique was stiff, confused, but she allowed the hug, awkwardly placing her arms around Victoire. Remus squirmed from his aunt's grasp, running off towards his great-uncle George. "It's been too long since I last saw you, much too long, in fact. You were just eighteen the last time I saw you-barely a woman-and now, you are all grown up and even prettier than I remember!" It had been six years since the two of them had seen each other, Dominique in France and Victoire first in England, then in Bulgaria, then coming back just last year. "How have you been since I last saw you?"

"Much too long, I suppose." Dominique said nervously, as another firework popped and sparkled above them. The twenty-three year old was wearing a shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders, and she was glancing around as though waiting for someone. The man next to her leaned over to murmur something in her ear in French, and she waved him off, babbling something back to him quickly. Seeing Victoire's questioning glance, she shrugged. "That's Ciel. We met about three years back, when he was rushed into St. Brébeuf for a silly accident." Victoire continued to look at her in startled curiosity, having never really noticed this romantic side to her little sister. "We're happy together, Ciel and I. Very happy, actually," Dominique held up her hand, revealing a gleaming engagement ring.

"I'm…."Victoire breathed in and out slowly, watching Ciel leave, her brow furrowed. He had been staring around with widened eyes, and Victoire knew enough French-though she'd hadn't been practicing lately- to know that Ciel was clearly a Muggle, and he looked to be about ten years older than Dominique, with a few grey hairs popping up here and there, as well as just a tired look that came with age. "I'm sure the two of you are very happy together, but….Dominique? Isn't he a little…" Victoire trailed off, blushing, and she glanced at the ground, not meeting Dominique's gaze. The younger girl scowled, moving closer to her sister.

"What, Torie? Is he a little too pretty for me, a little too older looking? A little too poor, is that what you're saying? Is it because he's a Muggle? Please, enlighten me, dear sister, what problem are you referring to, because, believe me, I've heard them all. No one seems to approve of the two of us-he's too old, he's a Muggle, he's divorced with kids-but no one's yet to ask how _I _feel about all this. No one's yet asked if I care about all the things that 'separate' us, as if there are boundaries that we're supposed to maintain, like cows that can't climb over a fence to get to the other pasture." She scowled at Victoire, her fists balled.

"That's not what I meant, Domi, it's just-"

"Happy birthday, Torie." Dominique said angrily, walking off to find Ciel, who had melted into the crowd. Victoire was left behind, with Remy tugging on her shirt, begging for her to go set of a firework with him. She nodded, taking his little hand, and they wandered in the direction of Uncle George and Uncle Ron, who had a small crowd of children circled around them, gazing in amazement. She didn't look back in the direction that her sister was leaving, not wanting to face the possibility that this was the last time she'd be seeing her sister. Victoire wiped away a tear, and the fireworks popped and flashed above her.

_Happy birthday to me. _


	14. I won't say I need help

_**Written for the 'Word Count Game Challenge Week 2' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass, using prompts: "Hurt him, and I swear I'll kill you.", "Is that really necessary?", Hogwarts Express, Accio, and Yellow. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 825, holding back. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten Times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using spell: Accio**_

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Louis: help.**_

_**Word count: 1025. **_

….

Louis stepped onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time that busy September first of 2015, pulling up his jeans. Already, his older sister Dominique had rushed off to chat loudly with some friends farther down, and he could just tell she was probably squealing and jumping up and down like a silly little girl. She was a Second Year now, and liked to act like she was better than anyone else. Louis' other sister was Victoire, a Fifth Year, who had promised to keep track of Louis, but he had no idea where she had disappeared to. Louis sighed, lugging his suitcase into an almost empty compartment, seeing his cousin Lucy sitting quietly by herself, wearing a soft yellow shirt that clashed with her red hair. She didn't look up as he put up his luggage and waved to her, leaving without a sound. The two were just months apart, but they weren't very close, and they didn't have much in common. (Lucy was quiet and mousy, and Louis was more outspoken than she was. Besides the fact that they were cousins, the only reason they weren't at each other's throats was a vague respect for differing attitudes.)

Louis peeked out into the hallway, sticking his hands into his pockets as he strolled down the carpet path, occasionally waving at familiar faces. He saw Molly in a carriage full of stuck-up Ravenclaws, and Teddy Lupin, who waved at him in a friendly manner before being sucked back into a game of Exploding Snap, leaving Louis to keep wandering, until he ran into three older boys already wearing their robes. They wore green and silver, the colour of Slytherin, which Louis had already been warned about before coming to school-all his uncles had told him to stay away from Slytherins, who were usually considered nothing but trouble for the Weasley family. They were all older than Louis was, taller and bigger, with menacing smirks, staring him down as he gulped.

"Look at the little firstie!" one of the boys cried, laughing as his buddies chuckled along with him. One of the boys moved closer, pushing Louis around, smirking and guffawing, ignoring Louis' protests and complaints, and even though he tried to escape, they grabbed his arms, pulling him back and forth, circling around him like sharks. He looked around at them all, seeing only dark green and black robes, leering faces smirking down at him, teasing and bullying him, fingers pinching his skin and fingers pulling at his thin blond hair until he almost started crying like the little first year he truly was, a big crying baby. "Look at the little firstie, he's going to cry, don't you think, Lars? Ought we to make him cry, Lars, what do you think? Maybe we ought to pull out all that pretty blond hair and shove him out of the train window-he looks like another stupid Gryffindor, and Merlin knows we've got enough of those, don't we, boys? Oh, look, is that a tear?" They laughed again, pushing Louis.

"Hurt him, and I swear, I'll kill you." Said a menacing voice behind them, and Louis whirled around to see Victoire, holding her wand threateningly at the older boys, scowling down at them. The boys looked at each other, smirking as if they thought Victoire wasn't going to do anything, and one of them moved for their wand. "Accio," Victoire said casually, and his wand went flying into her hand. Victoire smirked back at them. "I suggest you run along now, and leave my brother alone, before I make good on my promises." She tossed the boy his wand back, laughing when he scrambled for it. "Slither on now, little snakes, you've got somewhere to go." The Slytherin boys looked at each other briefly before taking off down the hallway, leaving the two siblings to snicker at them. "You okay, Lou?" Victoire asked, taking his hand as they walked back towards his carriage. She smiled down at him, seeming to be genuinely concerned and they continued down the carpeted path, feeling the train shake as it rumbled down the tracks. Overall, this had been a rather exciting ride so far, but Louis was rather anxious to get back to his carriage.

"Was that really necessary, Torie? You didn't have to threaten them, did you?" He was smiling inside, though, glad at least someone had come to his defense. Louis had thought he'd been all alone on the train now, his older cousins too busy running off and living their own lives without him, the baby of the school-age Weasley grandchildren. But his older sister had come to his defense, and now she was walking with him, making sure he was safe and fine, keeping bullying, older kids away. He'd never admit it, but he was grateful for Victoire's help. He loved his older sister, and he knew she'd always be there for him, if he ever needed help, be it defending him or just explaining a problem on his homework. Victoire was Louis' favourite sibling-she was more empathetic than Dominique, who mostly lived in her own sullen, selfish world-and Victoire seemed to understand the stress Louis went through. "You didn't have to take his wand, did you?"

"Trust me," Victoire said coldly, her blue eyes going dark in a way that scared Louis slightly. "I was holding back around them. Any other year, I would have ripped out their throats and cursed them until their own mothers wouldn't recognise them. But I'm a Prefect now," she scowled sullenly down at the gleaming badge pinned to her robes, declaring who she was and the importance of her existence at school, the fifteen year old who was just two steps down from teachers. "And I have to behave a certain way, don't I, always maintaining a certain image so it reflects well on the school, yeah?" But she was smiling, protecting Louis, keeping him safe. Louis smiled up at her, glad to have an older sister who was willing to help him all the time, to protect him and keep him safe. He was glad to have his big sister, Victoire.

….

_**Victoire is usually pretty protective of Dominique and Louis, and she'd go to great lengths to keep them safe. I imagine she used to sleep just outside of Louis' cot when he was first born to make sure he slept peacefully. **_


	15. Be prepared, little angel

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Molly: be prepared. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using # 885, drowning. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Adjective smart. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using Rosebud: **_Write about one of the next-gen girls.

_**The song mentioned in this story is mine. **_

….

Molly hadn't gone to the funeral, too afraid that she'd stick out like a sore thumb, even amongst all her equally redheaded family. After all, she was the only one who hadn't reacted to Uncle Charlie's death, the only one who wasn't going around with tears in her eyes, wondering _how did this happen? _It wasn't that she didn't miss her uncle-Uncle Charlie wasn't the sort of person one could ever really forget, with his prominent standing in the family, even if he was always in Romania, separate from them. No, Molly missed her uncle very much, but for some reason, she had found herself empty of all emotion, feeling nothing, only emptiness. She was drowning in the emptiness.

Mum and Dad had left her behind with questioning glances, taking silly little Lucy with them, as Lucy wiped away her tears, asking why Molly couldn't come along. Molly couldn't explain why, she couldn't find the words to explain that she was sad, but there was no emotions inside of her. _("Typical Ravenclaw," Dominique had snarled at her, scowling down at the redheaded girl. "Too wrapped up in yourself to ever truly feel anything.) _She had wanted to be like the others, wanted to be able to show her emotions on her sleeve, instead of keeping them bottled up, like always. ("_Don't bother with _Molly_, if it's sympathy you want," Dominique said, her words cruel. "She's too smart for her own good, too busy being the smart little Ravenclaw to ever give a damn about the rest of us.") _

Molly was lying quietly, silently on the rug that was in her grandmother's sitting room, all alone while the rest of the family stood outside in the hot, summer rain, wearing their black frocks and reminiscing about a man gone too soon. (Isn't that what they always said if you died of anything other than old age? What age truly defined _too soon_?) She hadn't said a word since the last person left the Burrow, hadn't made a sound since Dominique's cruel, angry comments about how she couldn't feel a thing. But, Molly didn't really mind the quiet house, where no one else was around to critique her or criticize her for anything she had or hadn't done. She wasn't prepared to go outside and face her family, face the judgmental world of people who just didn't understand.

"Are you okay, Molly?" someone asked, and she felt the warmth of another body curling up on the rug, felt strands of soft, silky hair wrap around Molly's hands. She opened her eyes briefly, seeing the curious blue eyes of her eldest cousin, Victoire, who was really just a year older than Molly herself, but already seemed to be so grown-up and wise compared to silly (_"Aren't you supposed to be so smart, Molly? Why don't you know just everything, Molly the Ravenclaw?"_) Molly. "You didn't come along with Lucy today….I thought maybe something had happened to you, maybe you were too sad to come or something. I wanted to check up on you."

"I'm not too sad," Molly whispered, still face down on the rug, breathing in the smells of forty-five years in a well-cleaned house. Victoire gave her a disbelieving look, and she scooted closer to her cousin so that they were shoulder to shoulder. Molly wasn't sure why this pretty girl had come back in to check on her; Molly and Victoire had very little in common, other than a shared lineage, and a shared surname. Molly was smart and always angry, but Victoire seemed to only be able to float on the gentlest of breezes from place to place, only occasionally dropping back down to earth for a brief moment.

"You look sad, Molly, you've looked sad all morning. Is it Uncle Charlie? Is it….is it what Dominique said to you earlier? If it was, Molly, I can talk to her about it-she just doesn't understand how you feel, Molly, she doesn't understand that we don't all mourn the same way. I know you're mourning, Molly, but you're not like the rest of us. We're noisy, we use tears and loud, blubbering voices and hugs to explain how we feel. But you, Molly? You're quiet and withdrawn-that doesn't mean you were any more prepared for this than we were, it doesn't mean you were any less affected than anyone else in the family." Molly gave her a startled look, surprised the older girl understood how she was feeling so well, in such simple words.

"You know, Molly, my mum used to sing a song to me and my siblings when we were younger. It isn't a happy song, not really, but if I sang to you, do you think it might help you feel better?" Victoire asked, looking curiously at her younger cousin. Molly could only shrug-she wasn't sure how she felt about singing right now, not even if it meant listening to Victoire's lovely voice. But Victoire only smiled, and began humming a slow song that immediately seemed to reverberate in Molly's ears, echoing throughout her whole being as she listened, enraptured by the sweet sounds coming from her cousin. She could only lay still and listen, unable to do anything more, frozen to the spot by the beauty she was hearing, the sheer emotion pouring from Victoire's lips.

"_Be prepared, little angel, be prepared. _

_Darker times await you, little angel, best you be prepared. _

_Be prepared, little angel, it only gets harder from here. _

_Be prepared, be prepared, don't be so scared, little angel. _

_Smile big, little angel, smile big, my dear, my dear, and my dear. _

_Smile big, don't be scared, and stand tall. _

_You stand tall, taller than them all, and smile, because there's nothing that can hurt you, _

_Nothing at all, little angel, so I say to you, Smile, little angel, and stand tall. _

_Darker times await you, little angel, But you don't care, you don't care. _

_My brave little angel, be prepared. _

_Though it hurts, though it rains hard every day, you are strong, you are strong. _

_Nothing can knock you down, little angel, little angel. _

_Be prepared, my brave little angel, you._

_Be prepared, be prepared." _

There was silence in the house for a long time after Victoire had finished singing, the chords still vibrating in the air. They lay on the rug together, holding hands, the room silent except for Victoire's humming. Molly didn't look up from where she lay, face down on the floor, smelling the cleaner her grandmother usually used to clean the fading rug. She was smiling to herself, letting Victoire's soft voice wash over, her eyes fluttering, not even noticing as the clock ticked by. Molly had cried for the first time in ages, wiping away silent tears as she felt Victoire's cold fingers in hers. She leaned her head against Victoire's blond one, trying to wipe away the wetness in her eyes.

"Are you going to be okay now, Molly?" Victoire asked after a while, and though her voice was quiet and sudden, she sounded filled with concern, giving Molly's hand a gentle squeeze as she spoke, staring at Molly's deep hazel eyes. "Are you feeling better now?" She used her free hand to wipe Molly's tears away, and it no longer felt like she was with her cousin, who was just fourteen; she could see the wonderful mother Victoire would grow up to be, so caring, so considerate. Molly smiled at her cousin, content to just lay on the rug next to her for the next few hours, until everyone returned from the wedding. She didn't feel so bad now about not crying when she had found out Uncle Charlie had died. She didn't feel so wrapped up in Dominique's words (_"Too smart to be a human, too smart to understand emotions-she must be a robot!"_) because at least there was someone around who could make her feel better. "Are you ready to face the world now, Molly?"

"Be prepared, my brave little angel," she murmured, getting to her feet, following Victoire out the front door, out to where the funeral was being held. Her eyes were a little wetter now than they had been, but she was smiling softly, holding tightly to Victoire's hand as the older, blond girl led her to the congregating flock of Weasleys; they both remained silent as they came up short, and Molly smiled at Dominique, who only gave her shocked look, seeing the normally emotionless girl join her noisier, more dramatic family outside.

Molly was prepared to face the world now. At least, it felt that way.


	16. Dear Diary

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Lucy: Diary. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 25, I'm alive. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Colour: Pink. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using Marigold: **_write about someone who is jealous.

….

"_You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars."-Gary Allan_

….

"_But we're born as children and we look at the world with open eyes... And we don't judge and we don't betray. We're not jealous. We're not envious. We're not even weary, which is a danger also as kids. They have to learn a certain amount of awareness."-Colin Farrell _

….

_4 October, 2021_

_Dear Diary, _

_Of course I'm being ridiculous, of course I'm treating this like a bigger deal than I need to, but sometimes, I just can't help myself, because I'm Lucy Weasley, and I'm insane. But, my cousin Victoire is getting married later this year, and, of course, that means she needs bridesmaids. It was a given assumption that the bride-to-be would begin her search for bridesmaids within her circle of close relatives and even friends-isn't that how most girls do it? But, Victoire has a sister and five female cousins she could choose from, and who's to say she would ever think to ask me, the strange little sister of Molly, who spent her first fifteen years being nothing more than a shadow, and the next year being horribly asocial, getting into trouble and even attempting to jump off the Astronomy Tower. (But, obviously, I'm alive, still, despite all efforts otherwise, so far.) _

_Me, seventeen year old Lucy Christine Weasley, a bridesmaid of a cousin who didn't even seem to recall I was ever there? If I ever thought that would be something to wish for, I'd be even crazier than anyone had thought to be true already. After all, there is very little love between Victoire and the daughters of Percy Weasley. (One of us has attempted to kiss Teddy several times now; the other just happens to be a mirror image of the first.) But, maybe Victoire felt bad about what happened at the end of last year, when I came home three days early because there was too much gawking going on at the Hospital Wing. Maybe she wanted to make me feel better; I don't know the reasoning, and I probably never will, but that doesn't change the fact that today, Victoire came up to me and asked if I would mind being one of her bridesmaids for her upcoming wedding. _

_(Of course, I said yes, because even though I try to deny it vehemently in public, I do adore the idea of weddings. Of course I said yes, because I have a collection of romance novels under my bed that no one knows about. Of course I said yes, because I'm jealous of Victoire Weasley, who gets to have the perfect life, and if all I am is an ugly girl in an ugly dress for a few hours, at least I can pretend I'm important, because Victoire asked me, for whatever reason. Of course I said yes, why wouldn't I?) _

….

_1 April, 2024 _

_Dear Diary, _

_What do you do when your cousin has a baby, and it just utterly breaks your heart? What do you do when she comes home with the baby and shows it off to just everyone she knows, and you're left on the sidelines, wondering why you don't have what she has. You're left wondering why it is some people can end up so perfect without even trying, while others only seem to leave a burnt path behind them, destroying everything they touch. Perfect Victoire, who has these pink cheeks and perfect blonde hair, holding her perfect pink baby as she smiles around at the whole family, so proud of herself for having a bloody baby. And everyone else is proud of her, too, because she's Victoire, and she can do no wrong. _

_Sorry, do I sound disgruntled? Jealous, maybe? My bad, I wouldn't want anyone to feel bad about that, of course. After all, people have spent their entire lives concerned with how I felt, making sure their every statement, every single movement didn't accidentally effect anyone else, haven't they? Oh, no, sorry, that's Victoire. Me, I'm the one that people run into and keep on walking without a word. People take my seat on the train or the bus, and don't even say sorry. No one seems to care if I'm still here, so I'm not sure why Victoire ever bothered coming all the way up to the school to talk me down from the Astronomy tower. I mean, other than that, when has she ever really seemed to give a damn about how I felt? She never asked how counseling was going, or ask if maybe I'd like to go out for a drink, because it must be hard losing your boyfriend to another girl. _

_I'm not supposed to hate Victoire, I'm not supposed to be jealous, just because she's prettier and smarter and funnier than I am. I'm not supposed to care that life just comes so easy to her, and I'm always left behind in the dust-really, I've been left behind everyone, not just Victoire, but she's oldest, and it's her happiness that always seems to hurt me the most. Because she's already so perfect, and all that ever seems to go right in her life is the things that I'll never get. Victoire's Head Girl? I can't even be a Prefect. Victoire's married her best friend? Mine laughed in my face when I told him how I felt. Victoire's had a successful and fantastic pregnancy? _

_(I lost my baby at four months.) _

_No one knows that little fact, though, and I don't intend on ever telling them. I mean, Molly knows, because she's Molly-my sister, my flat mate, the girl who knows when I'm sick just by the colour of my ears. But, she never told anyone, not even Mum or Dad, and she also didn't tell when she had to drive me to a Muggle hospital because the baby was….gone. I can't seem petty, I can't act like I have problems, not now, not when everyone's celebrating Victoire's baby boy, a pink-faced, pink-skinned little newborn that bawled when I looked at it. I don't want to rain on her parade, I don't want everyone to know I'm jealous, because they just wouldn't understand, and they wouldn't care. I'm twenty years old, after all, and I have an entire life ahead of me to have kids. Except, I lost my child at four months into a pregnancy no one knows about, and I can't even tell them that, because I don't want their pity. _

_I'm jealous, okay? I'll admit it-I'm fucking jealous of Victoire and her perfect life, and I'm jealous every time I go to the store and see all these women with three screaming tots all around them, and an arm full of groceries. I'm jealous when I go to counseling and I see the secretary's pictures on her desk, where she tells me all about how her eldest is pregnant for the second time, and her youngest just got married. I'm jealous, okay, I'm fucking jealous, because everyone else seems to be so happy all the time, and I'm still just a seventeen year old standing at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, waiting for the right moment. Except, this time, Victoire's not going to talk me back down-no one is. _

_Why haven't I jumped yet? _


	17. always together

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Fred: heartache. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 40, craving. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Potion: Amortentia. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using Daffodil: **_Write about an unrequited love/someone who loves someone else secretly.

….

Victoire felt her heart ache as she watched Teddy walking by with his friends, oblivious to the sixteen year old girl who peered behind a corner at him. She watched with a sort of tugging longing that wanted to drag her over to him-Gryffindor courage might have been another way of describing it. Her heart longed to pull her over to him, her tongue desperately wanted to confess her feelings to him, but her feet remained firmly lodged in their spot. She sighed, watching him turn a corner, walking out of her sight, and her heart twanged, craving for the boy she could not have. Although she knew it was silly-Victorie could have probably had a handful of dates to choose from at any given time-the sixteen year old couldn't help but wish maybe she wasn't so invisible to the seventh year. For her sixteenth birthday just three weeks ago, he'd patted her on the head and given her some Hogsmeade chocolate, treating her like she was still a little kid who didn't know enough to hang out with him. As Victorie turned away, she spotted her younger cousin, Fred, leaving his own conversation with Laura Drunnings, who was a fourth year, but was blushing like a first year on their first date.

Fred, even at twelve, was a natural charmer, and he was just becoming aware of it, too. With his wit, his good looks, his curled up smile that revealed the dimples in his face, there were already girls more than willing to fall in love with the mischievous young boy, the one who would knowingly smile at girls, anyone from a first year all the way up to the eighteen year olds, laughing when they shyly smiled back, hoping to invite him over for a chat. Fred was a romanticizer at heart, and he knew it, using it to his advantage whenever he could. (There were rumours that part of the reason he was the only second year on the Gryffindor Quidditch team was because the sixth year captain, Dana Lopez, had been promised a kiss if she said yes. There was no actual proof, but the fact that Dana's boyfriend had broken up with her a week and a half later didn't help matters.) He was one of Victoire's favourite cousins, and as he spotted her, Fred waved, wandering over.

Fred glanced curiously at the longing look in his cousin's eyes, tipping his head as she looked over her shoulder, as if waiting for someone to appear, someone to take her away on some sort of grand adventure. Fred still remembered when the two of them had been younger, running around Grandma Weasley's big backyard, pretending to be a valiant knight and a princess in need of help. (Victoire the strong would never have played such a game for anyone else but him.) Out of all his cousins, Victoire was one of his favourites, just behind James, because she didn't seem to mind the pranks he pulled, or the jokes he made. But now, seeing her look so desperate, he wanted only to hug her and ask what was wrong-forget the fact that it was entirely against his nature to do such a thing. "Is something wrong, Victoire?" he asked her.

"It's Teddy," Victorie said, sighing quietly, and Fred knew exactly what she meant. He had seen the way Victoire looked at Teddy Lupin, and he had seen the way her eyes followed his everyone move, filled with some strange longing for a boy who didn't seem to love her back. Fred didn't understand it, but then again, he was twelve, and he didn't really understand much about relationships of any kinds. "He's always with his friends, laughing and joking with them all day long-he hasn't got the time for me, anymore. Besides, his friends aren't always very nice to me, and I don't want to be around them, but I _do _want to be with Teddy." She sighed again, looking down at the ground in annoyance, her voice dropping to a mere whisper. As Victoire spoke about her unrequited feelings for Teddy, her eyes sparkled, and if Fred hadn't known better, he would have thought his older cousin was under the influence of a particularly powerful bout of Amortentia, as she smiled and talked about the boy that her heart ached and craved for. "I just wish he'd notice me the way I want him to, instead as just another silly little girl that follows him around all the time. It's like….it's like there's this _aching _in my heart that just won't go away when I'm around him."

"You'll be fine, though," Fred said, remembering what his mum had said last summer when he'd fallen out of their apple tree. He'd cried for a long time because his arm hurt, but his mum had only sat by his side, holding him tight as she wrapped up his arm, giving him several potions. "It hurts now, but you'll get better. You just need to move on with your life, instead of sitting in the moment, wallowing in pain-that's why it hurts so much, because you're too focused on how you feel about him, and you're not paying attention to what you _do _have in life." He smiled at her, and she smiled back weakly. "If you just accept that he doesn't love you right now-because he might, one day-and move on with things, your heart won't ache so much."

"When did you get so smart?" she asked, chuckling lightly, but she seemed happier for what he had said, and Fred couldn't help but feel a little bit better himself, glad to be able to help his cousin out. Victoire looked away briefly, then met his glance again, looking slightly embarrassed. "Thanks for that, Freddie. I think I needed to be reminded that Teddy's not the most important thing in my life right now-he shouldn't even be in the top ten most important things, considering I've got O.W.L.s next week." She laughed, and Fred laughed with her, infected by her bright attitude. "You're pretty smart, you know, Fred," Victoire ruffled his hair. "I mean, for a twelve year old boy, you're real sensitive and caring. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Fred said, and the two of them stood there for a few minutes in comfortable silence, Fred wondering if he should bother mentioning the ache in his own heart when it came to the girl he loved, or at least thought he loved, a third year named Madeline. But right now probably wasn't the time for that, not when Victoire seemed to be so sensitive herself; she must have been sensitive, emotionally, if the sixteen year old hadn't had the sense to get over Teddy Lupin. Fred wasn't overly fond of the turquoise-haired boy, not like most of his cousins, who seemed to love Lupin in various ways. But, Victorie seemed to care for him, and Fred didn't want to upset her by mentioning that he thought Teddy was sort of a git who rarely looked at anything past his next big adventure.

Fred took her hand, blushing awkwardly as he did, hand sweaty and dirty from Quidditch practice. The second year smiled at his older cousin, nudging her gently, and she laughed. The girl who's heart ached for the boy she loved-and the boy who would grow to leave behind a trail of heartache-walked off down the hall with each other, laughing and talking, each glad to have a cousin by their side, knowing that it wasn't people that mattered the most, it was family. They were glad for the cousins and siblings and aunts and uncles who surrounded them all the time, proud to be known as one of those redheaded loons that filled the school, happy to have someone who would stand up for them, someone who would help them. Someone who would help with a craving, empty heart, or even just a simple homework assignment. Glad to be a Weasley, always together.


	18. Too Busy for Roxy

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Roxanne: study. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 76, paperback.**_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Potion: Wolfsbane Potion. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using **_**Bittersweet: Symbolizes truth. **Write about someone discovering a truth.

_**This takes place about two and a half months before Fred's chapter. **_

….

Victoire was trying to study for her upcoming O.W.L.s, wishing her teachers hadn't given them so much homework for the Easter break. Professor Stebbing-the Potions professor-had assigned them three and a half rolls on the Wolfsbane potion and all its properties, who had made it, and the exact social and political benefits of the potion, swearing such things would appear on their practical exam in June. Victoire was sure he had smiled in a very goblin like manner when he'd said it, and he was probably cackling over the amount of homework he'd assigned over the holiday, while he sat comfortably in his office. Victoire sighed, stretching in her chair as she grumbled mentally about her least-favourite professor, turning to see someone standing just outside of her room, as if they'd been waiting quietly for a few minutes now, but hadn't had the nerve to say anything.

"What's the matter, Roxy?" Victoire asked the girl, who was standing quietly at the doorway of her room; Roxy was a tiny little girl with long dark hair and a narrow face, with wide hazel eyes and a curious half-smile on her face at all times. Except for now, her mouth was turned down as she clutched a thin paperback book in her hands, looking down anxiously at the floor, as if she were thinking hard about something. Victoire didn't know much about her young cousin, who was eight years younger than Victoire, but she knew Roxanne well enough to see the beginnings of a teary conversation. "Are you okay, Roxy? Has Louis and Fred been picking on you again?"

The little girl with the dark hair crept into Victoire's room, looking shy and quiet, not at all like her usual self, normally so playful and busy. Victoire wondered briefly if Louis and Fred _had _been picking on her again and mentally decided to at least go say something to the two boys, because she knew Roxy probably wouldn't bother trying to defend herself. But, Roxy quietly padded up to Victoire, her hazel eyes wide as she stared at Victoire, making the fifteen year old feel self-conscious in a way that most people didn't. Victorie had never really understood Roxanne Weasley, the youngest of her cousins, a surprise child to her uncle and aunt. By the time Roxanne had started walking and talking and behaving properly, Victoire had been in school, and she really didn't know much about this fleeting shadow before her.

"I can't read," the six and a half year old whispered quietly, and Victoire had to lean in just to hear her quiet voice. Her lower lip quivered as she spoke, her hands shaking, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm the oldest in my class because of my birthday and everything, I'm the only one who can't read all the books, and we've got a _test _on Monday for reading stuff. Ms. Abby says it's a big, big test that might decide which class we're placed in next year, and I'm afraid that I'll fail, and Ms. Abby might put me in the stupid class, with all the dumb people like Roger Akbar. I don't want to fail it, Torie," she murmured, letting out a small sob, falling into Victoire's open arms, and sniffling. "I don't want to fail school and make everyone think I'm too stupid to go to school. I want to go to Hogwarts with _you_, Torie! Why can't I be a big girl and go to Hogwarts like you and Freddy, so I don't have to do the reading stuff test on Monday? Only, I've told Ms. Abby I can read just fine, except sometimes, the words sort of shift around and change the way they're written, so I can't understand it-oh, Victorie, can't you cast some sort of spell to help me read better?!"

"What do you want me do to about that?" Victoire asked, wrinkling up her forehead in confusion. Behind her was a long stack of books about Wolfsbane and various charms or important pieces of magical history that she just _had _to learn by the time school started up again, because there was simply _no more time _to learn them. But she couldn't-didn't know how to-explain that Roxanne, who was standing with a quivering lip, clutching her beat up paperback with tiny hands. "I can't teach you to read, Roxy, you should have done that earlier. There's no magic spell or potion that will help you-learning to read is something everyone's got to do, and I'm very busy, so I haven't got the time to go over your phonics or your vowels or whatever." She turned back towards her studies, not noticing the trembling tears in Roxanne's eyes as she backed out of the room quietly.

"Okay," Roxanne said as she left, closing the door behind her. Victoire had no way of knowing this, but if she had seen the desperation on her cousin's face, she might have broken away from her studying for just a moment to go comfort and console the young girl, who looked close to having a bawling fit. Roxanne sighed as she closed the door to Victoire's room, just another cousin who was too busy to take care of the baby of the family, just another cousin who sent her on her way with a "I'm busy right now, Rox." She was used to it now, the "Maybe later" and the "Can't you see I'm doing something?" All she wanted to do was have a little help, because the words were moving when she read, and Roxanne didn't understand why.

….

_**I think that the Weasleys in general are very big on helping their cousins out, even if they're not very close. But Victoire, who I've described as being smart, is completely out of her depth here. She's not the best when it comes to comforting young children, and she's got a bit of a temper on her, which is why she sends Roxy away, instead of consoling her, like Teddy or Lucy might have. I don't think Victoire's a mean person, but she has no idea what to do when Roxy starts crying, so she's a little rough when dealing with the young girl. **_

_**Also, yes, Roxanne has dyslexia, in case that wasn't obvious. She isn't fully diagnosed until later in the year, because before now, everyone just assumed she was a little girl who was struggling to read. **_


	19. My Assistance

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Rose: numb. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 67, poem. **_

_**For the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Colour: blue. **_

_**For the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using Iris: **_Write about a Ravenclaw.

….

"_Nothing else you want to do after all your dreams come true.  
You've become numb. You shouldn't have ever stopped dreaming."-Toba Beta_

….

"_I've perfected the art of the fake smile. It's not so difficult when you are completely numb."-Bethany Griffin_

….

"_I learned how to stop crying.  
I learned how to hide inside of myself.  
I learned how to be somebody else.  
I learned how to be cold and numb."-Sherman Alexie _

….

It was weird, Rose thought to herself after everything was over and done with. In all her years, she would never have imagined that she'd fall in love with a guy like Scorpius Malfoy. Oh, sure, they were in the same year and the same house, but that was where the similarities stopped. Malfoy was quieter than she was, shyer and closed, like he was trying to burrow deeper inside him, building a little nest in his corner of the Ravenclaw common room. She hardly ever saw him anywhere besides his corner, surrounded by books, always devouring information, but never using any of his knowledge in class. Scorpius, Rose could tell, knew a lot of things, and probably could have answered most of the questions the teachers threw at them in class, but instead, he just sat in the back, quietly existing, but acting like he hoped everyone would forget he was there.

Rose, however, was loud and much too involved in everything. She loved learning as much as any Ravenclaw, always seeking new things to learn, new spells to master, but she was competitive, actively throwing her hand in the air when she knew an answer, hoping that it was _her _and no one else that the teacher called on. She would always race to learn the newest spell or potion the fastest, or find some star or planet before anyone, loudly and triumphantly cheering when she succeeded, or huffing and complaining when she failed. Rose knew Scorpius was there at all times-he fascinated her in a way she couldn't explain and couldn't understand-but she took little notice of him most of the time, more focused on always _going, going, going, _always being the best at everything.

Rose hadn't been aware she was falling in love a boy she believed to be a perfect stranger-she hadn't been aware that he would soon become her other half, the part of her she hadn't even known was missing, and had never wanted to seek out. After all, boys like Scorpius didn't interest her much, with their quiet, secretive manners, or the mysteriously silent ways they conducted herself. (In all honestly, boys themselves did not interest her much at all. Rose was more attracted to people like Hannai Jebsen, another girl just one year younger than herself, but that did not stop her from falling in love with Scorpius.) She'd fallen in love with a boy in the most normal sense of the word, but he hadn't fallen in love with her. She shouldn't have been surprised-wasn't it the same sort of thing she had told Scorpius, the first time she kissed him?

"_I can't ever love you the way they want me to," she had told him, pulling her pink lips away from his. They were both dressed up in their blue bronze, sitting outside the Ravenclaw common room after a particularly rowdy post-Quidditch game celebration. Rose looked into his grey eyes, imaging a little boy or girl with those grey eyes and her red hair, wondering if such a thing could ever happen, if she could ever love him the way her parents loved each other. Oh, she loved Scorpius very much, but it wasn't the same sort of love she held for Hannai, who sent Rose's blood pumping every time she saw the younger girl. "Everyone thinks we're destined for each other, and I wish it was true, but I can't love you that way." _

So why did it leave her feeling numb inside when he asked her if they could stop going out, because he wanted to date her cousin, Albus? Why did it feel like he'd taken a part of her with him, even though she had known their relationship was never going to amount to anything more than a casual friendship, someone to hold her hand? She was in love with Hannai, and he was in love with Albus-it wasn't hard to understand, yet when he left, he left with her heart in his hands. (_"I'm not in love with you, Rose, and you're not in love with me. What's the point in pretending otherwise?"_) She grew numb as he walked away, and Rose ran for the only person she could think of to help her: Victoire, who was older than Rose by six years, and seemed to known so much about love and other people. Surely, she'd be able to make sense of the confusion that Rose was feeling.

Victoire was a living poem, elegant and graceful and heartbreakingly beautiful. If she hadn't been Rose's cousin, Rose might have fallen in love with the older girl, who had sparkling blue eyes and a quick smile, always ready to give her younger cousin a big hug, and tell Rose how beautiful she looked, even if it wasn't true. Victorie had been Rose's source of comfort for years, the person she came to when seeking advice about how she felt, or advice about her classes or which careers she should consider. Victoire was the one who had bandaged Rose's knees when she fell off her broom all those years ago, and she was the one who bandaged Rose's numb, empty heart when Scorpius walked away, leaving her so confused and heartbroken.

It was Victorie who held Rose's hand that first night as she sobbed into a pillow, confessing all the strange feeling that were bubbling up inside of her, leaving Rose an emotional wreck who didn't know which way was up. It was Victoire who explained it was possible to love a person but not be _in _love with them, as she sat over Rose, stroking her bright red hair, telling her all about the times Victoire had thought she was in love with someone, only to be left heartbroken and numb, struggling to recover. It was Victorie who offered to punch Scorpius in the nose for being an insensitive git who didn't understand the difference between _loving someone _and _being in love with someone. _(Rose offered her a watery smile, but declined the offer.)

"You don't need to ever give up who you are for anyone, Rose," Victoire told her a few days later, when the seventeen year tearfully confessed that she was afraid of telling her parents she was now "broken up" with Scorpius, and that she was afraid to introduce them to Hannai as the girl she was interested in as _more _than a friend. "Don't let other people pressure you into feeling a certain way, or acting a certain way, just to make _them _feel better. You're a Ravenclaw, Rosie, and you're _so _smart-smarter than I'll ever hope to be. I hope one day soon you'll be able to understand that, understand that you're so smart and clever and unique. There's no one that's ever going to change you, Rosie, and I want you to know that. Not even your parents, okay?"

Victoire was Rose's sense of comfort, her sense of support, who was there when no one else could be, who held her hands on long walks. Victoire was the one who confessed to being pregnant to Rose before she told anyone else, even her own husband. Victoire was the one who asked Rose to stand beside her as she numbly explained to their entire family that she was pregnant. (Victoire would later stand by _Rose's _side, when she informed everyone that she was, in fact, planning on marrying Hannai.) Victoire had been there all of Rose's life, guiding her onto a brighter path, where Rose could be an individual, where Rose couldn't be hurt by those who didn't understand her like Victoire did. It was Victoire who was always waiting in the wings to save Rose, swooping down to pull her back up to safety.

Rose loved her cousin very much, just as much as she loved Rose and Scorpius and Teddy. Rose loved to be able to stand next to Victoire and hold her hand as they watched fireworks explode, loved to be able to be the one Victoire called to wipe away her tears. Rose had gone numb when Scorpius walked away, but it was Victorie who brought her back to life, just by being there. (_"People change, Rosie. Ideas change, Rosie. Society changes, Rosie. Our love for each other and for our family, however, will never change. I will be by your side until the day you die, and not a moment beforehand."_) Rose was stronger and smarter and braver when she stood side by side with her cousin Victoire, and she was ready to fight anyone who hurt her cousin-she knew Victoire felt the same way, ready to defend her family all the way to the very end, no matter what anyone else ever said or thought.

Victoire was _family_, and family stuck together.


	20. A Shop Called Serendipity

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Hugo: nostalgia. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 27, Captain Kirk. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Non-Magical Item: Dagger. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using **__**Protea King: Symbolizes for change and transformation. **_Write about someone going through changes in his/her life.

_**Written for the 'Word Count Game Challenge' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass, Week 3, using the word limit of 1350 words (25 word leeway), and the prompts: "Look me in the eye and say it. I dare you.", Muggle antique shop, Incredulous, Serendipity, Truth**_

_**Word Count: 1375, not including author's note. **_

….

Victorie hated the dusty old shop, with its faded letters, just barely still legible in the stamped gold ink of some forty years ago, spelling out the store's name: Serendipity, Antiquities and Curiosities, like a big calling card to grandmothers seeking out faded lamp shades, or encouraging quirky, too-cool university students hoping for a cheap couch to haggle over. Antiquities, curio, pawn shop-this was Serendipity, where Victoire had been left with her cousin, Hugo, who was only ten and had remained completely silent since their arrival, save for a happy little noise as the door opened. Hugo was actually, completely, eerily silent in that way that only small children could pull off-Hugo was living proof of that left-behind eeriness of children in horror movies, a truth to the rumour of the strange vibes they sent off. Victoire wasn't too fond of the little boy-he was nothing like his sister at all-who was standing in the Muggle antique shop, holding a dagger in his hands and wobbling back and forth as he hummed soundlessly, his eyes moving around the store.

Victoire held in her own hand a slightly chipped mug with a picture of William Shatner's grinning face staring up at her, still as a Muggle portrait, dressed up in his Captain Kirk's uniform for a show that had been popular when her grandparents were teenagers. Victorie felt slightly incredulous to be holding something that probably had seen a lot over the past fifty something years, probably being handed from a fanatic father to his son, to his grandson, who hadn't nearly so interested in the show, and had dumped the mug and other odds and ends from his attic here, at Serendipity. She looked down at the mug in her hands, wondering if she'd ever leave anything behind that had been so important to her, only to have her descendants abandon them in favour of something brighter and shinier than her old artifact. Victoire shivered, looking up to see Hugo staring at her with wide brownish-blue eyes, large as golf balls, and she scowled, slamming the mug down on a counter with just a little more force than she would have liked to handle the fragile looking mug with.

"Did you want something?" she asked him somewhat briskly, but he only shook his head, turning away silently, putting the dagger back in its place without a sound, and Hugo slipped off, deeper into the store than Victoire cared to go. She was angry-angry at her mother for dumping her at this stupid store for an hour while she did her shopping, angry at Aunt Hermione for not teaching her son how to function like any other person. But that was a little cruel, wasn't it? Didn't Hugo have a bad stutter, and wasn't he so terribly shy around everyone, even his own family, that his parents had started taking him to a psychiatrist every week in an effort to get him to open up. Victoire didn't know why she was always so cruel and harsh to the ten year old, but there was something about him that unsettled her, and she just couldn't stop the mean words from spilling out.

Hugo had come back, just as quiet as ever, like a shy little ghost that never made a sound, and she couldn't help scowling at him, wishing he would talk just once. In fact….a mean thought went through her head, and she turned to Hugo then, smiling in a way that made his eyes flicker with nervousness. "Can you say something for me, Hugo? Just one little phrase, please? I want you to say '_My name is Hugo Weasley, the mute, and I'm going to be a Hufflepuff._' Can you say that, Hugo? Huh, can you say that? I want to hear you say it-'_My name is Hugo-_' go on, say it nice and loud so I can hear you." He glanced down at the floor and mumbled something quietly that Victorie couldn't hear, and though she knew it wasn't right, though she knew she would regret it, she moved closer to him, grabbing his arm. "Look me in the eye and say it. I dare you, Hugo, just say it, just one little sentence, that's all I want to hear."

She hated the tears that sprung to his eyes, hated knowing she had caused it, but she couldn't keep herself from tugging on his arm to get him to say it. Hugo wiped away tears, but he remained silent, lips quivering without a single sound, and Victoire could only sigh in disgust, wishing she wasn't stuck on baby-sitting duty, wishing she didn't have to hang around the mute little baby who never said a word, the little kid that she knew nothing about, because he could never seem to open up to anyone, never seem to find the courage to speak what came to his mind-because there must be something he was thinking about, something that occurred to him at least once that he might have wanted to say, but he only ever carried around his stupid notebook, scribbling away all the time instead of learning how to socialise like a normal person. And off he had gone just then, off through the shelves so that she couldn't see him.

Victoire sighed, balling her hands into tight fists-she tried to keep away from all the old things in the shop, afraid she might break something or scream loudly, she was so frustrated with herself. Why couldn't she ever just be nice to her little cousin, who was just trying his best to be normal, who was just trying his best to survive in a world that moved too fast for him? Why did she always find herself bullying and pushing him until he left in tears? She was eighteen and he was ten-and yet she was acting like the little girl, shoving him into the mud just because she could, just to prove a point, knowing it would hurt him. But when he was around, she just couldn't control herself, some voice in her head yelling at her to just poke, poke, _poke _at him until there was nothing left. As she thought this, Hugo reappeared, handing her an old picture in its cracked frame, looking up at her with those curious eyes.

A wave of nostalgia and shock washed over Victorie as she stared at the old photo that Hugo was sharing with her; she wasn't sure how a copy of the photograph had gotten here of all places, but it was easily recognisable: Grandma Weasley, Grandpa Weasley, and a much younger Dad and Uncle Charlie, all waving up to the camera. In this Muggle version, they didn't move, choosing instead to remain frozen in mid-wave, grinning like idiots, but in the version she'd seen back home, Dad would jump up and down excitedly and Uncle Charlie would eventually duck behind Grandpa's legs, hiding shyly from the camera, offering only a crooked grin. Victoire looked away in shock, meeting Hugo's eyes, who smiled at her, his eyes glimmering happily, as he pulled his hand away, setting the photo down.

"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it completely, wishing she could just hug him and make everything better. Hugo only nodded, as if to say he forgave her, but that didn't make Victoire feel any less guilty as she met his gaze, and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, feeling his uneven heartbeat pattering alongside her own frantic thumping. "I'm so, so sorry I made you cry, Hugo, I don't know why I'm so mean, I just don't understand it-I try to be nice, but all I ever do is make you cry, and I don't mean to." She was blubbering now, and Hugo patted her arm awkwardly, as if trying to reassure her that everything was fine, that they were fine. And though she knew it wasn't fine, that things could never be totally fine no matter how hard she tried, at least she could try to be a better cousin. It might not last-it was a lot easier to make such promises surrounded by the past and surrounded by nostalgia-but she would try her hardest to do better.


	21. What Sort of Monsters

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/James: afterlife. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 45, hiccups. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Adjective: Broken.**_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using **__**Hydrangea:**__** S**__**ymbolizes heartfelt emotions. **_Write about someone confessing his/her feelings to someone else.

_**Takes place just after the incidents of Chapter 15, 'Be prepared, little angel'. **_

….

James stood away from the rest of his family, watching silently as his uncle's body was lowered into the ground, sniffling quietly-James tried to pretend there weren't tears on his cheeks, but as Uncle Charlie was buried. James had to turn away, sighing heavily. Albus-sweet little eight year old Albus, who only ever seemed to want to make sure everyone else was fine-had tried to move closer to his brother, probably to comfort him with some inane over-used statement of shared sadness, but James merely waved him away, not wanting to be touched or talked to as he grieved for his uncle. There was nothing to be said, he thought to himself, vaguely bitter in the way that children are when they've lost someone close to them. There was nothing to be said, there was nothing anyone could possibly ever do to right what had been wronged. He balled his fists, scuffing the muddy ground, wishing he could punch something, if it would bring his uncle back, his uncle Charlie, who shouldn't be dead, who shouldn't be gone yet, because he was just forty-two, so why was he dead?

James started to walk away, shaking his head towards Albus, who had stepped forward as if to hold his hand, to comfort him, but James only walked off, brushing away tears, and he knew his mother would worry about him and Dad would probably say something about how he just needed to be left alone. (His Dad understood these sorts of things, even if no one else really did.) James stumbled through the high grasses that came up to his chest, making it hard to walk, the ground muddy under his feet, like walking on a march, and he nearly stumbled; there was someone following him, and he spun around to see his older cousin, Victoire, who he didn't recall seeing at the funeral earlier. Her long blonde hair was falling around her face, and she was shoving the grass out of the way to get to him, stopping just short, and James opened his mouth, a thought suddenly coming to mind.

"Do you think there's an afterlife?" the nine year old asked, and if they hadn't been at a funeral for their uncle, Victoire would have been more than a little startled. His big brown eyes stared up at in curiosity, brimming with the questions that filled smaller children at such things, when they were stuck between the stages of understanding that bad things happened and knowing that there was just nothing that really could be done about it. Victoire was not used to such seriousness from the little boy, who had spent his entire life so far running around like a wild child, but something about the loss of her uncle had clearly affected him in some way. "Do you think there's something after death, some place we all go when we're dead, and we spend the rest of forever, and nothing can hurt us? Do you think there's a….a heaven?"

Victoire considered his question for a minute, her head turned away to stare at the thin clouds in the sky, lingering from a week's worth of rain that had poured in just two days. James was wringing his hands, sighing constantly, though he didn't seem to be aware of these things. Behind them, Grandma Molly had sagged, almost falling to the ground, was being supported by two of the uncles, who led her and little five year old Roxanne (who was really too young for this sort of thing) back inside the house. "No," she finally said, her voice quiet and thoughtful. "No, I don't think there's an afterlife. At least, not for us, not for people like us. There's no reward for living, and there's no reward for finally just giving in and dying."

This was why James had asked his cousin Victoire; she was fourteen and morbidly serious at times-and she always took him serious, even when he was being goofy, which was certainly not the situation at this moment in time. She didn't always understand what he was saying, but at least she was interested in what he had to say, and she didn't brush him off little baby who didn't know anything and who was too dumb to understand what was going on. Victoire was looking at him in total seriousness-she had honestly considered his question and answered it with an honest, rational answer, instead of lying and buttering up the situation, acting like he was too young and too delicate to be given such a grown-up answer.

"I do," he confessed, and it was like something had broken inside him-James fell, his legs collapsing underneath him, and he dropped onto the wet ground, hardly caring, as the tears came springing forth. He hadn't wanted to cry, not even now, but he just couldn't help it; he didn't understand why he was crying now, but tears were pouring down his cheeks, and he just settled against Victoire, who had sat down next him, seemingly oblivious to the mud and muck around them. "I think I have to believe in an afterlife, Torie. If I don't….if there's nothing there….why are we here? What's the point-Torie, what's the point, if there's nothing more after this? What…..why would anyone bother, if there's nothing else, no life after death, no anything…..." He sniffled, swiping at tears.

"I don't know, James," Victoire said gravely, handing James a handkerchief from her pocket. The nine year old sat there silently as his cousin talked, brushing at the tears, hiccupping every few seconds from the force of the crying. "I don't think anyone really knows the answer to that sort of thing-maybe that's why we bother at all, just in case there _is _something more, some other thing out there after all this mess that we just don't know about yet. I….I don't think it's likely that's there much of a chance, but I dunno. After all, I've never died, and until I do die, I won't be able to find out. I…." she sighed, looking down at James. "Aren't you a bit young to be asking these sorts of questions?"

She smiled at him weakly, and James offered her his own watery smile, leaning closer to her, feeling two heartbeats ticking in rhythm, beating constantly, as hearts are wont to do, and he wondered if maybe these questions were the sort of thing reserved for another day, when he was older, when he had more answers and experience. He wondered if any of his other cousins had ever asked such a question before, or did they just push such ideas into the back of their mind, stuffing it down for _another day_, so they wouldn't have to deal with such things now. Victoire started to get up, offering her his hand, and she pulled him up; the both of them were muddy and wet, their black attire covers in bit of grass, and there was muck in their hair. Victoire and James looked at each other quietly for a few seconds, and then he smiled.

"Don't be so serious all the time, James." Victoire said, grinning. "It worries me-you're not usually such a serious little boy, and I think we all need someone who can make us laugh. You're not as broken as you thing, James, and we need you, because you're funny and you're loving and kind, and you make people laugh. We need more people who know how to laugh….I think we're going to need that sort of thing very soon, so try to not be so serious, okay?" James nodded, and his hand slipped from hers, his thin legs pumping as he ran back through the grass, back to where his family was, all thoughts of their conversation slipping from his mind as he took off. Victoire, walking much more slowly behind him, wiped away a single tear, wondering what sort of monsters would try to swallow him up next.


	22. Wishing for Fools

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Albus: wishing. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 85, twenty points. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Adjective: sarcastic. **_

….

"_When a star is born  
They possess a gift or two  
One of them is this  
They have the power to make a wish come true."-Cliff Edwards, "When You Wish Upon a Star"_

….

"_If you are a dreamer come in  
If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar  
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer  
If you're a pretender com sit by my fire  
For we have some flax golden tales to spin  
Come in!  
Come in!"-Shel Silverstein_

….

"_But wishes are only granted in fairy tales."-Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry_

….

"_If there's a single lesson that life teaches us, it's that wishing doesn't make it so."-Lev Grossman, The Magicians _

….

Victoire held her cousin's hand as they walked, and pointed out the different constellations and the names of the trees that they passed, making sure he knew each one's name, making sure he was listening and paying attention. She knew the names of many of the different plants and stars, and as she talked, Albus squirmed in her grasp, as though he were trying to move away from her, but she held fast to him, still talking, explaining everything to him in her quiet sort of voice, and he continued to ignore her, scowling sourly. She could tell he wasn't listening, as he turned this way and that, probably wondering why she had even dragged him out here in the first place, because this must look like a big waste of time to him. She pointed out her favourite constellation, Andromeda, smiling mildly, as Albus rolled his eyes at her.

"Twenty points to Gryffindor," Albus said somewhat sarcastically, but she only shook her head, knowing that he was hiding behind the pain with a barrier of mean words and sarcasm-she knew, because had done the same thing to others other the years, hurting them with words and anger and even punches, because she just didn't know how to explain that it hurt. "Good job, good job, you've passed the test." His lips curled up into something similar to a snarl, and he turned to pull from her grip, but Victorie only tightened her fingers around his wrist, moving closer to him. She wasn't going to let him go just yet, wasn't going to let him walk away without talking to him first.

"You're angry, Albus, but you're not angry at me-I can tell that much-so don't be so rude and hateful. It won't make this conversation go any easier, and you're going to want to have a clear mind when we talk. I know, I know, you're sleepy and frustrated and probably confused. You probably wish I'd just hurry up and say my piece so you can go back to bed and forget I ever said anything, but you've got to hear me out, okay? Just give me ten minutes, and then I'll take you back home, and continue to ignore me, and continue to be mad at James." She looked at him, and after a tense moment, Albus nodded, but he only stood there tensely, tearing his wrist from her grasp.

"There are a million things that bind us together-the fact that we're cousins just happens to be one of them." Victoire began, speaking in soft, quiet tones. Albus paused in his scowling, turning to look at her with curiosity. "There are a million things that make us who us who we are-I'm the prettiest of us all, depending on who you ask, and you're the smartest of us all, depending on who you ask. James is the bravest, Hugo is the quietest, Fred is the strongest, and Lily is the most creative. We're all unique, but we've all gone at least one thing in common: we all are really good at wishing for things." Albus blinked, confused, and Victorie pointed at the sky. "Remember when we were little kids, and we'd spend hours outside, just waiting for the stars to come out so we could wish on every single one."

"You'd always wish for dumb stuff, like good scores on your tests, or for Teddy to like you," Albus said, laughing quietly. "And Rose used to wish that Uncle Ron would still love her, even after everything that happened." He looked away, eyes falling down to the ground, pulled down by the same sadness that had made his shoulders sag all week, ever since James had walked out the front door, stepping away from his brother for what might be a very long time. "I used to wish that no one would ever leave me behind, because I wanted everything to just stay the same, forever and ever, like it was back when we were all little kids, back before people started going to Hogwarts and growing up and falling love."

"You're seventeen, now, Al, and I know you feel like that's much too old to still be wishing on stars like a little kid, but I brought you out here to remind you that the stars don't stop holding their magic just because you've grown up and everything different from how it was ten years ago. Just remember that-you're older now, but you can still wish on stars like you used to. In fact, we could still wish on them right now." She waved a hand casually at the sky, pointing up at the stars that twinkling down at them, and Victoire smiled at her cousin. Albus stood there silently for a moment, and nodded, smiling back at her. "I can go first, if you'd like: I wish that everyone would just be happy."

Albus stood thoughtfully for at least a full minute, closing his eyes and thinking to himself. "I wish that James would hurry back home soon, and that he wouldn't be so angry all the time," Albus finally whispered, and he shifted closer, putting his hand in Victoire's. They stood that way, staring up at the stars until the sun began rising, making wishes after wishes, talking about how they felt and what made them angry and making more wishes. Victoire couldn't keep the smile off her face, and Albus looked a lot happier than he had been when they started out on their way here. Victoire felt like she had finally connected with her younger cousin, who had been so chilly and distant since James had taken off, and she felt like he was a lot better now, a lot happier than he had been just an hour ago, when she had woken him. They smiled at each other and wished on the stars.


	23. The Very Last Unicorn

_**Written for the 'Unicorn Challenge' by J.F.C., using prompts: pure silver, blood, forests, innocent, and freedom. **_

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Victoire/Lily: return. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 81, it will be years. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Adjective: sweet. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using Gladiolus:**____**Symbolizes strength of character, faithfulness and honor. **_Write about a Gryffindor.

….

Lily had seen her very last unicorn just that morning-the very last unicorn anyone would ever see again-and she was still dazzled by it. The unicorn had been very tall, with a gleaming pure silver coat and the beginnings of what was going to be horn, its hooves a bright gold that it might have carried for the rest of its life, had the unicorn lived any longer. The unicorn had-according to Beezly, at least-been around three or four years old at the time of death, only seven months old when they found it, a gold horse wandering around in the deep forests of Germany. The last unicorn in the world, Beezly had declared proudly, and Lily Luna Potter had been there to watch it die just a few hours previous. It had been a horrible, beautiful sight, watching the last of these elusive, majestic creatures fall with a final blow, so steady Lily had nearly missed it by blinking. It was March 11th, 2033, and the era of the unicorn had ended at 7.34 that morning. Lily Luna Potter was twenty-five.

(Lily had cried as she watched the last unicorn, little more than a baby, give out a feeble, final cry, its eyes slipping shut forever, the end of its life, the end of the unicorns. The brave Gryffindor had been left in tears as she ran away, not wanting to smell the blood, or see the men laugh and start their own little fire as they joked about an end of an era, seemingly oblivious to the pain that they had just caused her, the suffering she had just gone through. They didn't seem to realise that they hadn't just killed the last unicorn, but they had killed an entire species, and an entire lifestyle wrapped around such a creature.)

As she walked back to her campsite, hands stuffed into her jean pockets, Lily wondered why the world didn't look so different when it was obvious everything had changed so drastically. After all, the children born after this moment would only learn of the unicorns as just another thing of the past, something of their parents' generations, or a model in a museum, something to write a report about. _The Fall of the Unicorns_-Lily had written something similar just three years ago, when they'd killed off the last nursing unicorn, the last broodmare in the known world. She'd cried then, too, big wet tears as she handed in her report, wondering where the world had gone to, if the unicorns were dying out, if she'd end up raising her own children in a world devoid of the majestic, magical creatures.

Ahead of her was Victoire, who stood solidly and solitary outside their little camp, peering into the distance, obviously waiting for her. She had offered to come and stand with Lily as the unicorns died forever-never to return-but Lily had declined, telling her she ought to stay with the children, who were too young to see such terrible, awful things. They were too sweet, too innocent, as the unicorn who had been slaughtered just an hour ago, had been-too young to die, but they had taken the unicorn from her forever, and Lily could only stagger up the hill as she thought to herself, trying to keep the tears inside. _How dare they! How dare Beezly laugh as the unicorn struggled against its restraints, trying to flee from the knife! How dare he and the others mock me for crying, when they're the ones without a heart to spare!_

….

Victoire watched her cousin arrive back at the tents where'd they'd been staying while Lily attempted to stop those awful men from killing the last unicorn (a little foal that Lily kept calling Gertrude, and talked about as if it were her own child) and she knew from Lily's slouched shoulders and downed head that she had failed in her singular crusade; she wanted to turn around and usher the children back into their tent, as if somehow that would protect them from the knowledge that the unicorns were _dead and gone_, and they weren't coming back. (How many times had the girls whispered their prayers at night for the pure silver little thing, begging for the blood to not spill freely on the ground? Victoire's own prayers had joined them, begging for the continued freedom of innocence, so they didn't have to live in such a world where the unicorns were only a rumour, a myth.)

"I failed, Torie," Lily said quietly, coming up short, and she huffed, looking at the hill behind them, where someone had started a bonfire, which was already burning steadily. She imagined that it must smell terrible as they began to through the body parts in, as they burned, taking the unicorn away from them forever, never to return. "I failed, I _failed! _She's gone, oh, Torie, she's gone, and I've failed!" Lily fell against her cousin, sobbing freely into her shoulder, and continued with her muffled cries. "They're never going to return, I'll never see another one again. They won't return-all the unicorns are gone, oh, oh!"

Victoire took the young woman in her arms, hugging her tightly while Lily hiccupped loudly, murmuring constantly about the unicorns, who could not return, who would never be seen again. Victoire thinks to herself that it will be years before Lily is fine again, before she will be able to get over such a senseless murder, and she hugs her cousin that much more tightly. Behind them, the girls are peeking out from their tent, watching as their mother and their cousin Lily hold each other and cry. She hears Remus call out loudly, pointing at the fire, which was still going strong, and he started down the hill, as if to go stop them. Victoire pulled herself away from Lily, calling Remus back, demanding that he return to her right now, and the nine year old only paused, staring at the fire below them.

"What do we do now, Torie? What do we do now, without the unicorns? I…..they're all gone now, they're never going to return…Torie, what are we going to do? I promised the girls….I told them I would take them to meet Gertrude before….they never even got to see her, not once. They've never seen a unicorn, and now they never will. Gertrude…I almost missed her, Torie. They wanted to kill her before I woke, so I couldn't try to stop them. That's why I ran down still in my pyjamas. And now…she's gone anyway, gone forever, the last unicorn. She's not going to return-oh, Torie, what do we do now, without the unicorns?"

"I don't know, Lils," Victoire said quietly, and she felt the girls clinging to her leg, watched as Remus trudged back up the hill, moving to hold his brother's hand. They stood on the top of the hill, watching the fire burn, knowing it meant something drastic had changed just then in their world, something that would affect their lives forever, the last of the unicorns burning in a pyre below them. "I just don't know what there's left to be done-crying won't bring them back, crying won't do anything. I just….I'm sorry, Lily, but I don't think there truly is anything to be done, you know? The unicorns won't be returning and…we're going to have to get used to that fact, aren't we? They aren't going to return."


	24. You Are Beautiful

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Louis: Beautiful. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 140, regal. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Gemstone: clear quartz. **_

_**Dominique is going on 19, and Louis is very nearly 17.**_

….

Dominique had never considered herself beautiful, especially not standing shoulder to shoulder with her heart-breaking, tragically stunning older sister, who was the one who had been magically blessed with wavy blonde hair (Dom's was just a curly, dark blonde mess) and expressive blue eyes (Dom's were duller and too far apart for her liking) and a stunning personally-Dominique tried to be outgoing, she wanted to be outgoing, but she felt long overshadowed by Victoire. Dominique knew these things weren't entirely Victoire's fault-she didn't mean to be perfect and dazzling all the time-but that didn't make Dominique any less frustrated when she saw boys chasing after Victoire, boys who never even so much as noticed her, just part of the decorations.

Well, not tonight, Dominique thought proudly and rather happily, recalling the sweet young man who had asked her out for dinner; his name was Robert, just a year and a half older than she was, and was also training to be an assistant Healer alongside Dominique. He had asked Dominique out during one of their many training classes, where the two of them were partners, constantly joking between classes-they had even gone on a few "study dates" that mostly turned into viewing sessions of really old Muggle films that Robert enjoyed, like _Casablanca_, and throwing popcorn at each other. But this was to be their first ever official date-he was taking her to the theatre to see _A Christmas Carol_-and she felt just as beautiful, just as stunning as Victoire must have felt every day. Tonight, Dominique would finally get her chance to shine for a boy who had never met her older sister, who couldn't compare fair Dominique to stunning Victoire.

"Hey, Dom, are you in here? I need some help on my new model," called Dominique's younger brother, Louis, who rapped his fingers lightly on the door once, before casually cracking it open anyway, letting the door swing carelessly open without waiting for her response. Dominique would have turned to glare at him-she hated when people came into her room without permission, as her brother seemed to enjoy doing, but she was too busy smoothing out her dress and peering at herself in the mirror to make sure she looked fine, to make sure she would look great on her date tonight. "I can't figure out where the hippogriff's wings go…." Louis froze in the doorway, staring at Dominique who was twirling around in her pretty blue dress. "Are you going out?" He asked sharply.

"I might be," Dominique said, slipping on one earring and then the other, admiring the way the little stones (clear quarts, she thought they were called, but Dominique wasn't sure, she just knew they had been a gift from her cousin, Molly) reached nearly to her shoulders, showcasing the hollow area just under her neck, as well as the smooth fair skin of her shoulders and arms. Her hair had been done up in an elaborate braid that pulled the hair just up to the nape of her neck, and she was even wearing make-up, an unusual circumstance for her. Dominique felt almost _regal_, like a princess or a queen. "Is it so strange that a boy happens to have taken an interest in me? His name is Robert, in case you were curious." Dominique moved over to her bed, slipping on a pair of matching flats and picking up her purse, smiling at Louis, who had been watching her with a slightly dazzled, confused look on his face, as though she were a strange creature that he would have liked to study. Dominique's smiled faded into a scowl as she grew suddenly irritated with him. "What, Louis? Am I not pretty enough for you?"

"Huh?" Louis mumbled, meeting her eyes with a befuddled look in his eyes. "Not….pretty enough?" He sounds half-asleep, and Dominique has to resist the urge to punch him, Louis is irritating her so much. "Oh no," he says suddenly, sharply, and Dominique glances at him again, vaguely startled. "Oh, no, no, no, Domi, that's not what I meant at all. You….you look very pretty in your dress, actually. Beautiful, really, if we're being honest. I mean, you look beautiful all the time…even in robes, or just jeans, but especially so tonight…Robert's going to love you and…" he trailed off, blushing horribly, but Dominique could only shake her head. Although she felt somewhat prettier than normal, she did not feel beautiful, and she did not want to hear Louis say such lies just to make her feel better. "Oh, but it's true, Domi, you're very beautiful and if Robert doesn't figure that out, then he's a daft idiot, and trust me, you are _very _pretty. Very beautiful, very stunning-my amazing older sister, Dominique." He laughed slightly.

"That's not true," she said quietly, a dark blush creeping up her face, and she bit her tongue, embarrassed by Louis' nice words, which she knew were a lie. She would never be as beautiful as Victoire, who floated when she walked, and who turned heads everywhere she went. Victoire, who had had half a dozen boyfriends by the time she graduated, and was already engaged to her most recent boyfriend, Teddy Lupin, who Dominique had used to have a rather childish crush on. "That's not true, you don't mean that, Louis. I'm not beautiful, I've never been beautiful, not like Victoire. _She's _beautiful, I'm just an ugly duckling, just lucky enough to get a date." All her happiness from being asked out by Robert had left her, dissipated in the flood of sadness that overwhelmed her as she thought about how ugly she truly was compared to her fantastic, amazing, wonderful older sister, who had never meant to overshadow Dominique, but always seemed to find some way to do so, even when she wasn't even physically around.

Louis watched her with his mouth agape, and he moved to hold her hand, shaking his head firmly. "That's not true, Domi, that's not true. Whoever made you think that you're not pretty is a liar. Of course you're pretty, of course you're beautiful-haven't you looked in a mirror lately? Haven't you seen the way guys look at you? It pisses me off sometimes, the number of guys I catch peeking at you, checking you out. Don't you notice any of them?" Dominique had begun to cry, large, gulping tears that ran down her face and made her hiccup loudly. She shook her head, not wanting to believe him, because it couldn't possibly be true at all, what he was saying. She wasn't pretty, she'd never be pretty-Victoire was the pretty one, not her. Her make-up was beginning to run, and that only made her cry harder. Louis wrapped his arms tightly around her in a hug, trying to calm her down. "You _are _beautiful, Dominique, even if you don't think so. _Trust me_. If Robert doesn't realise that, then he's an idiot, Domi. _I know _you are beautiful, Domi-why can't you see that yourself?"


	25. a cousin to meet

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Molly: unforeseen. **_

_**Written for the 'Word Count Weekly Challenge: Week Four' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass, using the two quotes below, autumn, "This changes everything", and centaur. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Creature: Centaur. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using **_**Dandelion:** **Symbolizes faithfulness and happiness. **Write about a Hufflepuff

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 128, patch of ground. **_

_**1575 words, minus author's note.**_

….

_"Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead."- The Pierces, "Secret"_

_"If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life."- Pablo Neruda_

….

_The Next Generation: A Look at the Weasley Grandchildren_

_Chapter 3: Dominique Weasley_

_The possibilities of tomorrow are limitless, endless, and can lead anywhere. Unfortunately, they can also lead to unforeseen consequences that, in hindsight, might have made one change their mind about which path to take, which road to travel. After all, if a road is less often traveled, wouldn't that make you question the integrity of the road? If a road is less traveled, what questions must that bring up about its loyalty to staying on the straight and narrow path? If a road is less traveled, why would you trust it to bring you where you need to be? When I was young, all anyone ever told me was that I would _go _places one day-I didn't understand what they meant as first, and I'm not sure I still do, but I'm beginning to figure it out, just a little. They saw that my father was ambitious, and they assumed that I was, too. They saw that I was in Hufflepuff, and so it was assumed that I must be friendly and kind to everyone I meet. They saw that I was a Weasley, and they assumed that I must love my family dearly. _

_My mother once told me that it was far too easy to trust me, because I had a nature about myself that relaxed people, that lent them this illusion that I could not and would not ever lie to them, that I would never be selfish and look anywhere but to myself. After all, I'm a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin, and Hufflepuffs are sweet, caring-they're interested in looking out for other people. Hufflepuffs don't have secrets, and they certainly don't lie about those secrets for years to come, so that the only people who knew were her and one other. But, as they say, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. And Dominique has _been _dead for quite a while now, while I live far away from other humans, as I spend most of my time with the centaurs. It is autumn now, and the only two humans amongst over a hundred centaurs are my husband, Peter, and I. I have not seen my cousin in over eight years-no one else has seen her since Victoire's twenty-sixth birthday, when she ran away with her then fiancé, Ciel. Of course, we've both started our own families, some later than others, and I know Dominique had two young girls hidden away somewhere. I've got the pictures. _

_I know Dominique had lots of problems at school and home-there wasn't ever anything too terrible, no abuse or bullying or anything of that nature-but it was obvious Dominique suffered terribly from body issues, from feeling inadequate compared to other people, especially her older sister, Victoire. I'm not sure how or why I ended up being the one who she confessed these secrets to-such things are, as Peter says, unforeseen; all I know is I became the one that Dominique would run to after a particularly nasty night of eating and binging, or when she took a razor to her soft skin, sobbing into my arms as she showed me the bloody bandages she hid under long sleeves. No one else seemed to ever fully understand why it was that Dominique would have even considered running away to France, but I did know-she had just given up altogether on living and made one last frantic attempt at death after discovering her boyfriend, Robert, with a picture of Victoire, when he finally confessed he had fallen in love with the older girl; it only seemed to further confirm Dominique's suspicions that she'll always be second best to her perfect older sister. The thing about Dominique is-she's stubborn, and when she gets her mind set on a fantasy, even an untrue, twisted one, it's hard to convince her otherwise. _

_Believe me when I say I loved Dominique as much as I was humanly capable of doing so. Believe me when I say I hated Dominique as much as I was humanly capable of doing so. She was my cousin and we were only a year and a half apart and she trusted me with all her secrets; she was also demanding and impatient and never seemed to realise the amount of pressure she was truly adding to my life. But, I was a Hufflepuff, and I wad family, so I stood by her side and held her hand and listened to her confessions. I loved Dominique, regardless of her faults, but I hated her, because she wasn't able to look past her faults. She could not look in the mirror and see what the rest of us saw-a beautiful, talented young girl who blossomed into a beautiful, talented young lady; a horrible mental illness was tearing her apart from the inside, and all I wanted to do was shake her until she got it through her head, even as I knew words like anorexia and bulimia were being thrown around as possibilities. I don't know how she died or when or where exactly, only that an official certificate was sent to Uncle Bill from France when I was twenty-seven, and no body was ever recovered. Ciel and his daughters, too, seemed to have disappeared without a trace, and no one could recall seeing them. And, so, we mourned her as Weasleys do when they lose someone-they gather and tell stories and cry loudly, and then they do their best to get over it._

_We had a private funeral for the middle child of William and Fleur Weasley, and we each mourned her in our own way as an empty casket was buried in the rain; it was best to do it then, when no one could see you cry, when it was easy to fake the tears on your cheeks. There's a patch of ground in the Weasley family graveyard just for her. I know Victoire, Dominique's sister, has never quite gotten over it-nor has her brother, Louis. I saw them at the last family gathering in the summer, Victoire and Teddy with their four children, and Louis with his new bride, Rayna. They did not mention her out loud to others, but I could see the way Victoire's hands shook as Dad gave his usual toast to those that we have lost over the years-Uncle Fred, Uncle Charlie, Dominique, my cousin Cadence born to Uncle Ron and gone hours later, and even to my sister Lucy's unborn child. I saw the tears in Louis' eyes as Uncle Percy spoke of her. We all miss her, the bright girl who was always ready with a joke or a prank. And I wish I had gone down a different path, a path that did not lead to a twenty-four year old woman going missing and then being declared dead, but I can't help the mistakes I've made. All I can do is ensure that I don't make them again. I loved my cousin more than I thought was possible, but she's gone now, and all I can do is stay behind and keep living without her. _

...

Molly paused in her writing as she heard hooves outside, and then someone stopping just beside her tent. The centaur named Calla ducked into Molly's tent, and she turned around to smile at the chestnut coloured horse-man shyly; her smile quickly froze and then disappeared altogether as she noticed the troubled look in his eye. Was it possible something had happened in the past few hours that had escaped her notice? She hadn't seen any strength creatures or heard any unusual noises; had something gone wrong with Favela, who was pregnant with her first foal, or maybe a rabbit had been found too close to the centaur property? Molly tilted her head, curious and more than a little anxious, as Calla pawed at the ground, looking slightly awkward.

"We have….news," the centaur began, still pawing at the ground, though she was staring at Molly properly now, making sure she heard every word. "News concerning the human you have been waiting on, the one with the blonde hair, who you said ran away many years ago. The one you have been looking for as you live with us-Dominique, you call her? We believe she has been located, and that the stars shall lead us to her, but we must go with haste, or her position might be lost. If you could hurry and collect your things, we could be ready to go in twenty minutes-I will take you there myself, even if Barrick does get mad that I will be allowing you to ride on my back."

"This changes everything," Molly breathed, and she dove for her bag, running out the door, joining Calla and the other centaurs, where Peter was waiting patiently for her. She couldn't keep the grin off her face as she ran, jumping up onto Calla's back, letting out a little cheer as they took off. After eight long years, she would finally be able to see her cousin again-maybe they could even go see the rest of the family and uncover the long-overdue truth about why Dominique's body had never been found. _Hard to bury someone who's not yet dead, isn't it? _The fact that the centaurs had found her now was completely unforeseen, but she laughed loudly anyway, already anxious to ride out as fast as possible. She had a cousin to go meet.


	26. more than anything else

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Lucy: Apple**_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Non-Magical Item: Necklace**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Car, using prompt # 135, Resentment**_

_**Dominique is about nine and Lucy is seven. **_

….

_Dominique_

Dominique wasn't so sure she had ever wanted anything more in her entire life than she wanted that necklace just then, staring at the precious stones set amongst gold curls, greed bubbling up inside of her. She _needed _that necklace, no matter that it was eight whole galleons, and her pocket change was only four sickles a week-which, for the record, she kept foolishly spending on things like sweets or little snap bracelets that were quickly lost or given off to other friends as presents. Currently, Dominique only had three galleons, certainly not enough for the beautiful necklace that she just _had _to have. Dominique just wasn't very good with money-it wasn't her fault, really-but in that moment, she knew she just _had _to have that necklace by any means possible. And she had to have it now, because there was simply no telling what other little girl, who didn't want the necklace nearly so bad as Dominique, might come by and beg their mother for it. It just wouldn't be fair!

….

_Lucy_

Lucy munched away quietly on her apple, watching her cousin, Dominique, staring longingly at a necklace in the shop window. Lucy wasn't so sure why she seemed to be so very fascinated by the necklace-it was shiny, sure, but wasn't all jewellery shiny and bright and decorative? Lucy wasn't sure why this particular one would be any nicer than all the others, or why Dominique seemed to be glaring so harshly at it, as if she resented the necklace for being in the shop instead being in Dominique's hand. Really, Lucy thought to herself, taking another bite of the apple and shaking her head, some people were just so silly about things like this. Maybe it was just a part of being older that Lucy didn't quite understand, yet-one of those _when you're older _things her mum was always talking about.

….

_Dominique_

"What are you doing, Domi?" asked a quiet voice behind her, and Dominique spun around to see her younger cousin, Lucy, who was munching away on an apple more red than her hair, and seemed to be very puzzled as she came up beside Dominique to stare at the necklace in the shop window. Anger and jealousy bubbled up inside Dominique as she thought in a panicked manner-_what if Lucy wants the necklace? She can't have it, I want it more, and I want it more than she ever could! _Resentment filled her at the very thought, and Dominique was almost tempted to shove Lucy down and seize the necklace before anyone else could. But, then, she shook her head, trying to clear it, and she realised how ridiculous that sounded. Then again….Lucy was bound to have some money on her-maybe enough to buy the necklace!

….

_Lucy_

Lucy didn't much care for the way Dominique was staring at her, almost hungrily, and she considered stepping away to enjoy her apple somewhere else, but decided that might seem rude to her older cousin. "Did you need something, Domi?" She took another look at the necklace, just in case it might have gotten prettier while they were talking, but it still just looked like a cheap piece of metal, not very impressive at all. "It's a very nice necklace, don't you think?" she said politely, and frowned in confusion as Dominique scowled at her angrily, her eyes lighting up possessively. Lucy was reminded strongly of that weird 'hobbit' movie she had watched recently with her father-though, she was still under the impression that 'hobbits' were no more than little people with very big, very hairy feet, and the goblins were simply all wrong.

….

_Dominique_

"Say, Lucy," Dominique began coyly, still trying to hide her anger and annoyance with Lucy._ Was it possible she wanted the necklace as well? She can't have it-I want it! _"Would you happen to have any extra money you could lend me? Only, I really want to buy this necklace-see how pretty it is, and how it shines in the light? I think I would look wonderful with it, wouldn't you say? Only, I don't have enough money to buy it, and I was wondering if maybe you had a few extra galleons in your pocket that you could loan me, and I'd pay you back later, when I have my allowance." Lucy gave her a puzzled look, still munching away on her apple as Dominique talked, head tilted as she considered the question and the necklace. _It's mine, it's mine! You can't have it, it's mine! _Dominique might have blushed with embarrassment if she stopped to think about what she was doing, but she was overcome with the desire to possess the beautiful necklace, and wasn't thinking at all rationally.

….

_Lucy_

"I'd pay you back later, when I have my allowance." Dominique said, and Lucy took another bite of her apple, bewildered. It was just a piece of jewellery-did Dominique really need it so badly that she just _had _to have it right then and there? And besides, Lucy didn't really have much money on her just then; she'd been intending on buying another apple with what she had (_eight sickles for two apples, bright and juicy! Get 'em while they're hot!_) which would certainly not be enough for Dominique's silly necklace that she'd probably lose in a week. _You'll understand when you're older_-was that true, though? Would Dominique's obsession with the jewellery make sense when she was eight or nine or ten? It certainly didn't make any sense right now, as she shook her head. Dominique's shoulders slumped as Lucy explained that she simply didn't have enough, though her eyes were still glittering, almost with anger, Lucy thought, though that didn't make any sense. Why would Dominique be so mad about a stupid necklace?

….

_Dominique_

_How dare she? How dare she not give me her money? She's got to have enough, she's got to look-I just know it. She's hiding it from me, that smug little baby! I'll…I'll punch her, I will! Look at her, nibbling away at her stupid little apple, probably laughing at me right now, knowing I won't be able to buy my lovely necklace. Oh, I just must have it-me and no one else. No one can have it, just me, because I saw it first, and I want it more! Why won't she give me her money, I know she's got it, I know it, I know it! It's my necklace-I hate you, Lucy Weasley, I hate you! I…I resent you, with your stupid apple and your stupid smile, mocking me as you eat, knowing I can't have the thing I want most. How dare you not give me what I want, how dare you mock me? I hate, hate, hate you, Lucy Weasley! Stupid little baby, I hate you. It's my necklace, you can't have it! It's all mine, mine, mine-it can only be mine, no one else's. Stupid Lucy._

….

_Lucy_

Lucy finished her apple off quickly, not really liking the look in her cousin's eye. Maybe Dominique had gone mad or something-Lucy wasn't sure, and she didn't really care. All she was concerned about was getting away so she could get another apple to munch on, and also avoid Dominique for at least the rest of the day (maybe forever!) because, clearly, her cousin had gone crazy. Lucy could tell from the wild look in the older girl's eye, from the way she pursed her lips and scowled and seemed to be almost shaking from rage. Lucy wanted _out _of there right now, and she looked around desperately for someone to rescue her. The necklace wasn't even that special-why did Dominique look so mad about it? Oh…Lucy needed another apple to help her think.


	27. Just the right moment

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Fred: Punctual. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 145, matter of genetics. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Emotion: Loyalty. **_

_**Dominique is nearly 16 here, and Fred is 15, both 5**__**th**__** years. **_

...

_Suppose we could ever be on time-_

Two hands on the clock, finally ticking correctly.

_Suppose we could ever be, what is it, punctual-_

Not just feet pounding on the stones, rushing.

_Suppose we could ever move fast enough-_

Wouldn't that just surprise everyone?

_Suppose we could ever run far enough-_

We still would be late to Heaven.

_Suppose we could ever try hard enough-_

Well, I've tried, buddy boy, and it's just not happening.

_Suppose I took your hand and flew faster than the birds-_

You'd fall into the ocean and take me down with you.

_Suppose I said I could be punctual, for once, if you gave me a chance-_

I'd like to see it happen, but I doubt it ever will.

_Suppose you ever believed in me, in what I can do-_

I've given you a chance, and all you do is disappoint me.

_What have I done, Dominique?_

When will you ever be on time, Fred?

….

It was only a small matter of genetics that connected the two of them-a sharing of DNA and a love of jokes, that was all and nothing more. After all, he joked and pranked for the simple fact that he could, desiring that look of enjoyment and glee on other's faces when everything went well; she did it to differentiate herself, standing apart from her siblings, wanting to do something, wanting to be something, other than perfect Dominique, just like her perfect siblings. She held no personally bound code of loyalty towards her younger cousin, no instinctive reaction to remain by his side through thick and thin-they were two people who shared their last names, and a love of pranking, nothing more.

Well, there was one thing more that connected Dominique to her younger cousin, Fred. Neither one of them were very good at telling time or keeping track of it. She could remember a number of times that the two of them had gotten into trouble for being late to one class or another; they used to bother their team Captains for being late to practice, and they'd end up in detention together, swapping stories about how they could never be punctual, never be on time, to this thing or that thing. She liked those times in detention, no pretending like everything was perfect, no concerning yourself with any real problems than whatever boring assignment they'd been handed that particular day in detention. They laughed about how the teachers would never understand them, and then go their separate ways, late as always.

And things might have continued like that forever and ever (_amen_) except that Dominique had decided to go to Hogsmeade by herself that particular weekend, partially because she liked being alone when it was cold outside and mostly everyone else was running about like pigeons. The other reason was because her other Ravenclaw friends had complained that she took too long to get ready, and if she wanted to go with them, she'd had to get ready right _then_. But, Dominique did things at her own pace, and so, she started the trek down to Hogsmeade all by herself, wrapped up in her warmest coat and a cute little hat with a bright purple star on the front-"_In case you ever get lost," Grandma Weasley said, smiling as she handed it to Dominique_-and Dominique hummed cheerily, glad that she was, for the moment, completely alone. No one else around to bother her or judge her or rush her.

Just then, Dominique hit a particularly icy part of the road, and her boots slipped and slid across the snowy grounds, making her almost want to laugh if she hadn't been afraid of falling. Already, she could just imagine collapsing to the ground in a pool of her own blood, left to die alone. Instead, she nearly collapsed on the side of the path, hit her head on a low-hanging tree branch and fell to the ground, head spinning and her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. _(Just a moment, because I've got to get to Hogsmeade to buy something for Mum as a Christmas present. Just a moment, and then I'll get back up. Oh, but it's so much nicer here than at school. I could sleep her all night, no one would notice. No one to judge me or compare me here in the snow. Really, it's just for a moment, and I'll get up-though, this is terribly nice) _And she might have stayed that way for a very long time-her prediction might have come true, minus the blood-had her cousin Fred, late-as-usual, decided to turn the corner just then, albeit much more carefully.

"Domi? Domi, is that you? Dominique, are you okay?" Fred demanded, sliding his way over to where she lay in the snow, blonde hair spread around her like some strange halo. She was breathing calmly, at least, and nothing seemed to be bent too oddly-it seemed like she had just slipped and fallen unconscious for a moment. In fact, Dominique was already opening her eyes, sitting up groggily. Fred threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly, glad she was okay. After all, he wasn't much a Healer, and he probably wouldn't have been able to carry Dominique if she needed to be taken to the Hospital Wing. "Are you okay? I just showed up, and you were laying in the snow as if…..as if…..oh, I was afraid something had happened to you! You scared me, Domi!"

"It's a good thing you showed up, then," Dominique said quietly, taking his hand as he helped her stand up. Fred gave her a crooked grin and nodded. "I'm real lucky you can never bother to be punctual to anything of this nature. I could have been out here for hours and gotten really hurt." Fred nodded again, hooking the crook of his elbow with hers, leading her back up the path to the school-he wanted to get her to Madame Luxe, the school nurse who had taken over about six years back, quickly, just in case something _was _wrong with Dominique that wasn't obvious. She was her cousin and he was a Gryffindor, which meant he'd remain loyal to his family, and protect them. He took her hand, noticing a brief flash of strange lines on Dominique's left arm, but she only blushed, shoving her sleeves down her arm, and giving him a calm smile. "I'm so glad you rescued me, Fred."

"Yeah," Fred said absently. He wasn't so sure the rescuing was quite done yet.

….

_Suppose I said I loved you, my cousin-_

I'd call you a liar, no one loves me.

_Suppose I said we are all here for you-_

Where were you when I needed you most?

_Suppose I said I was with you all along-_

I'm looking, but I don't see you.

_Suppose I pulled you up from your sea of despair-_

You've run out of time and I'm already gone.

_Suppose I said all I want is to see you smile-_

Why do you even bother caring anymore?

_Suppose I said I'm always there when you need me-_

We'll be late to our own funerals.

_Suppose I said I want to hold your hand-_

I'm tired of it all, and I'm tired of you.

_Suppose I said our time here is almost done-_

I'd tell you we were done forever ago, and you're late again.

_Why won't you let me help you, Dominique? _

Why do you even try to bother helping me, Fred?

….

_**Dominique, for the record, has some definite issues about herself, especially when it comes to comparing herself to her 'perfect' sister. She's trying to hide the fact, though several of her cousins do notice-the problem is, for the most part, nothing is truly done about these issues. **_


	28. Butterfly free

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Roxanne: Broken wings**_

_**Written for the 'Word Count Weekly Challenge: Week 5' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass, using the below quotes, "I'm dying", "You look good in that", and "Remember when things were actually easy?" Word count: 1150+25=1175.**_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Adjective: Quick. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 189: alone. **_

….

_"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."- Plato_

_"The most courageous act is for you to think for yourself. Aloud."- Coco Chanel_

….

"I'm dying, Domi," Roxanne said in a dramatic tone, wandering into her uncle's kitchen. The twelve year old sighed deeply and slumped into a seat next to Dominique, who could only stare at her younger cousin in amusement and with slight confusion. She had no idea what Roxy was talking about, but it probably wasn't something Dominique really had time to listen to, what with her job at St. Mungo's and her failed relationships and just _life _in general swarming up around her, leaving Dominique with little time to deal with her younger cousins and their problems, of which there seemed to be many, of increasingly annoying pointlessness. She wasn't Victoire, after all, who was so willing to help out all the little cousins who needed help with their grades or a crush or whatever nonsense they were always coming to her for. Dominique turned away from her cousin, missing the younger girl's lazy grin as she laughed at her own dramatics.

_One day, I'm going to leave this place. I'm going to fly away like a bird, unburdened by the problems of my life in England. No more broken wings for me-I'm going to float like a butterfly._ She was nineteen, and this wasn't the first time such thoughts had flittered through her mind, but it was become a more regular thing she considered, thinking about her plans to flee from England more and more often-she hated it here, hated her entire life of being compared to others, to never feeling adequate enough to please her parents, always feeling so terribly alone. She had plans to run away to somewhere foreign, maybe France or Japan, because the idea of living on her own, away from the other Weasley's, fascinated her. She could finally be free from expectations, because no one would know about the rest of her family, would have no one to compare her to. _No clipped wings for this butterfly. _

Roxanne's eyes dropped to the floor, and she sighed once again, though this time Dominique could tell it wasn't a dramatic, childish, attention-grabbing sigh. Dominique moved to the younger girl, pulling her into a tight hug, wishing she could hold this little girl tight, keep her from spreading her wings, lest she fall back to the ground, her wings broken and torn, as she crashed with tears in her eyes. Dominique knew what it was like to have been ripped so cruelly from the clouds, sent tumbling back to earth like a fallen angel. Roxanne breathed deeply against Dominique's shoulder, and her body quivered, as if she were trying to keep it all together, keep herself from cracking and crashing. _A butterfly with broken wings can't fly. _

"Remember when things were actually easy? When life was easy?" Roxanne mumbled into Dominique's shoulder, not lifting her head from where she was leaning against the older girl. "Remember when you weren't concerned about dumb things like how pretty you are, or whether or not a boy liked you?" Dominique gave her a startled look, surprised that the girl was even considering such things, at twelve. She hadn't been so serious at that age, still concerned more with Quidditch than boys, more concerned about if she would get in trouble for doing backflips through the hallways than considering if anyone could see up her skirt. "All I ever hear now from the teachers is that we need to be focused on our studies, and all I ever hear from my classmates is who's got the cutest arse or whatever." Roxy rolled her eyes, like she could barely believe the shallowness of her contemporaries. "You look good in that," she finally said, nodding at Dominique's jeans and Puddlemere t-shirt. "Not all weird and fancy, like Torie usually is-not fake, like she looks, with make-up plastered all over her fact."

"You're a very smart little girl, aren't you?" Dominique asked, as Roxanne pulled away from her, and Roxanne blushed, not used to such compliments. All she ever heard from her teachers was she didn't apply herself enough, and all she ever heard from her parents was that she _needed _to finish school-no one had ever called her smart before, or made any comment about her overall intelligence. "It's like….you're considering things that I didn't even start thinking about until a year or so ago. You're growing up a lot faster than I am-I'm not entirely sure if it's a good thing, but if it keeps you from suffering from a broken heart like most girls, then I am all for whatever wisdom you've got tucked away in that pretty little head of yours." Roxanne nodded, unsure of how to respond. "I mean, you always speak your mind, even when others don't-you don't let others walk over you or define who you are, and that's really strong of you."

"_Butterfly free,_" Roxanne said, smiling to herself. Dominique frowned, confused about what Roxanne was talking about, and the younger girl smiled serenely, closing her eyes. "It's a poem," she explained, beginning to rock back and forth, and suddenly, Dominique was reminded of Lorcan Scamander, who did the same thing when he was thinking. "It goes

_Butterfly free, _

_What does it mean?_

_What is the purpose of broken wings?_

_Bring to me beautiful music, for me you sing. _

_Butterfly free, softly you fly, quickly you fall. _

_Beautiful flying, beautiful wings._

_Butterfly falling, _

_Butterfly free._

One of my teachers read it to us once in class, I think, back in primary school. Supposedly, the poem was supposed to be about the fact that even the prettiest things lose their shine, and even the most powerful people fall from their position; I dunno if that's what the guy ever actually meant-I just thought his poems were really pretty and sad sounding, and I always used to want to give him a hug. In fact, I used to want to go meet him just so I could, and I begged my teacher to find out where he lived. She said the author had killed himself shortly after publishing a bunch of his short poems, sort of like it was his last note to the world before he died, and I remember going home and crying for him, because it was so sad that he didn't ever get to find out how much his poems made me think."

"Butterfly free," Dominique murmured quietly, and she couldn't help but smile down at Roxanne, who grinned up at her younger cousin bravely. "Thanks for telling me that, Roxy, it really helped." And she meant it completely, as Roxanne smiled and skipped off down the hallway towards the room she was staying in during her visit at her uncle's house. Dominique stood in the kitchen by herself for a minute or two after she was gone, standing still as she thought to herself. _Butterfly free. You won't bring me down, you won't tear my wings, and you won't break them. _Maybe now was the time to leave, to start on her own adventure in life.

_Butterfly free. _


	29. I'm sorry I was never good enough

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Rose: heartbeat.**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 9: blankly. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Non-magical Object: Balloon. **_

….

Dominique couldn't remember seeing her cousin Rose ever cry-there weren't even the vaguest of memories of a tear in Rose's eyes or wet cheeks stained with tear streaks that cut across her pale skin. She had seen Rose angry with her mouth turned down and her ears red and her hands shaking; she had seen Rose happy, with wide smiles and bright, glimmering eyes as she floated around with that dreamy look on her face. But, Dominique could not recall what Rose's sad face looked like-did she scowl, or did her lip tremble ferociously, or did she try to hide the tears? Rose not the sort of person who was easily moved to strong emotions, and though Dominique strained to do so, she could not remember a single tear leaking from her cousin's eyes.

Now, though, as she watched her cousin stand outside the hospital room, Dominique could see tears pouring out from his cousin's eyes; she was shaking from head to toe, her hands barely clutching a bag stuffed full of toys and children's books. She seemed terribly small as she stood there, and Dominique could only catch her eye for a fraction of a second-but in that second, she saw terrified desperation looking back at her in Rose's widened eyes. Dominique watched her younger cousin sigh deeply, balling up her fists, face crumpling and twisting as she tried to hold in sobs that were too much for her, spilling out of Rose in loud gasps. Dominque wanted to move to her, to comfort her, but she felt awkward, unsure of herself. It had been years-far too many years-since she had seen Rose or any of her family, and relations were still tense between them.

Inside the hospital room slept a little girl with her blonde hair splayed out over her pillow, and her little chest rose and fell shallowly, barely even moving. There was a heart monitor nearby, her heartbeat pumping slowly, much too slowly for Dominique's comfort, for anyone's comfort. Balloons, bright and colourful, were tied to the end of her bed, in stark contrast to the sterile hospital white of the rest of her room. The girl was Rose's daughter (_adopted,_ Dominique couldn't help but remind her self, and she hated herself for that cruel part of her that still existed, deep inside) Tabitha, the one everyone called Neeny for a reason Dominique didn't understand (just another thing you missed out on while you was gone), who was not yet quite seven, and had been admitted to St. Mungo's three days ago with a severe fever that the Healers and mediwitches couldn't seem to drag back down to normal, regardless of spells or potions or a combination of muggle medicines. Her heartbeat thudded unsteadily and slowly throughout the first nights, and Dominique's own heartbeat seemed to be trying to claw its way out of her.

"Are you okay, Rose? Is Neeny going to…?" Dominique stopped, seeing the anguish in Rose's eyes, seeing the pain written clearly on her face. This was a young woman who had grown desperate, who was not sure if there was anything left for her to do. Neeny was just a little girl, heartbeat still pumping weakly, while her mothers cried outside in earnest, already prepared to mourn their not-yet-dead child, because the Healers didn't know what to do, and it didn't look like Neeny was going to make it. Dominique could not comfort her cousin, who looked so broken and hopeless, because she just didn't know what to say to her-too many years separated from her family and a poor relationship with Rose had separated the two young women, leaving one to starve for consolation in her sorrow and the other to stand just outside this sad bubble, unable to find the words necessary to comfort the crying woman.

"Do you need any help….?" Dominique tried to speak again, tried to find the words that she insisted must be somewhere inside of her. Rose could only turn to her cousin with confusion, looking at her blankly, all emotion seemingly drained from her as she wobbled and shook on buckling legs. Dominique sighed, taking a deep breath as she looked at her cousin, so forlorn and broken. "Is there anything I can do for you or Hannai right now? Anything I could go get for you-a pillow, blanket, food? Anything at all?" She didn't know what to say, or how to comfort the young woman, so at least she could help out in some small way, right? At least she could do some good for her cousin this way, right? Dominique's heartbeat spiked as Rose stood silently, tears still streaming down her cheeks, not responding.

"No," Rose said quietly, and she looked at Dominique somewhat blankly, not at all looking like she really wanted to talk about the situation. Dominique wasn't even sure why'd she come, except that Victoire had recently chewed her out for not attempting to reconnect with the rest of the family, and she had worried that something might happen to Rose if the woman was left alone for too long. "No, there's nothing wrong, I'm fine." She sniffled, wiping at her nose. "I'm fine, honest." Dominique gave her a disbelieving look, and Rose smiled slightly through her tears. "Hannai's been coming by every day after work….she says I ought to go home, take a shower every once and a while, but I'm so worried about her….Neeny's got such a fragile heartbeat…" Rose looked away, brushing, still, at the tears in her eyes, and Dominique moved closer, as if to hug her. "We were so lucky to even get Neeny, and now….I feel as if I've let her down in some way, letting her get so sick. They don't know how to help my daughter and….I feel so _helpless._"

"I'm sorry," Dominique said quietly, and they both knew she was talking about more than just the situation with Tabitha. _Sorry I wasn't here, sorry I was such an awful cousin, sorry I never cared enough. Sorry I ran away, sorry I pretended I was dead, sorry I told you I hated you. Sorry, sorry, sorry. _"I wish there was something more I could do to help-I'm sure you feel the same way. It would just crush me if something happened to Lisette or Noella." Her daughters, who were eleven and five-it hurt just to think about something happening to her little girls, her little angels; she could understood the anguish in Rose's eyes, the clenched jaw, the shaking in her hands. She took Rose's hand in hers, heartbeat pounding loudly in her ear. "I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry I was never good enough. _


	30. Facing the World

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/Hugo: Daybreak. **_

_**Written for the 'Word Count Weekly Challenge' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass, using prompts: Almond, Catch, "Don't touch me!", "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just having a crisis here.", "You don't want to kiss me?"**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 1: glaciers.**_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using Emotion: Distrust. **_

_**1325 words, minus author's note. **_

….

Dominique threw an almond up into the air, trying-and failing-to catch it in her mouth as it bounced off the side of her nose and scattered to the ground; she sighed, brushing the almond off the front steps, and dropped her head into her hands, watching as the sun rose, turning from night into daybreak. It was her least favourite time of day, daybreak, just as the mysterious, cool dark melted into a splash of bright colours, like someone had thrown their stylus across the entire sky. She hated the overall brightness of daybreak, as if it were trying to show off to her, like it was trying to impress her with its flashy colours and harsh light as the sun rose; Dominique much preferred the cool silence of night, chilly like glaciers.

Dominique was only up this early in the morning because her Aunt Hermione was supposed to be stopping by to talk to Mum, and she'd be brining Dominique's younger cousins, Rose and Hugo. Dominique wasn't overly fond of Rose, the older of the two, who just filled Dominique with distrust, as if she were always hiding something, or secretly judging Dominique behind her back; but Hugo, who was seven years younger than Dominique but seemed so wise at just eleven years old, was easy to love, a little boy who would follow her around without a word, hand in hand as they walked across the beach silently, neither needing to speak, as if the world around them spoke enough for a lifetime of conversations.

Dominique had offered to wait for Aunt Hermione, even if it _did _mean getting up at daybreak, because at least she'd be the first person to see them, the first person to greet sweet little Hugo, who'd be going to Hogwarts that September, and Dominique could be near him on a regular basis-which was good, because he needed someone to look out for him, the quiet little boy with the large mind-but it was her sixth year-which was sad, because she'd only get two years with him, which was hardly any time at all. Dominique held back a yawn, remembering the smirk on Louis' face when she had offered to get up before even the sun, just so she could see Hugo's bright little face laughing at her from Hermione's car; he didn't understand, didn't really realise how important Hugo was to her, Dominique's favourite cousin, except for maybe Molly. Hugo was the only one who didn't make her feel unimportant or used up, like the others, and she hadn't hurt Hugo yet with her cruel words, which Dominique had always struggled with.

Just then, a little red car started up the hill that led to Shell Cottage, where Dominique had spent her entire seventeen years. She stood eagerly, shoes trampling the almonds that she had been trying to catch in her mouth as the sun rose, which now lay scattered around the front step. What if this was Aunt Hermione's car? What if they were here? She smoothed down her hair, watching the car drive even closer, barely able to keep the smile off her face. Hugo, the silent Weasley; Hugo, the Weasley who stuttered and stumbled and wrote down his emotions-Dominique couldn't imagine him any other way, and she almost squealed as the car pulled up towards Shell Cottage, flashing its lights. She couldn't wait to see him, to ask how he was, to assess how much he'd grown since she had seen him at Christmas last year.

She laughed as the younger boy ran out from his mother's car, only turning around to wave good-bye wildly, nearly tripping over his shoelaces as he ran; Hugo just managed to pick himself back up before he face planted the beach, grinning up at her. Dominique moved from her place on the steps, walking over to greet him with a smile on her face, arms outstretched. "Don't touch me!" Hugo squealed, fleeing from her grasp, and Dominique make a face, pretending to be hurt, pretending to pout as if he had offended her in some way, which made the smile on Hugo's face fall rather quickly.

"You don't want to kiss me?" she asked teasingly, and he squawked, shaking his head as if to say no, but she only sighed heavily, turning away in a dramatic manner, hand resting heavily on her brow. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just having a crisis here. My own dear cousin no longer loves me, he doesn't want to be seen with me or hug me, or even let me give him a little kiss on the cheek." If she kept this up much longer, she'd probably be able to fake a tear or two, but it looked like Hugo was already near tears, so she only smiled, ruffling his hair. "Just yanking your chain, little cuz. Don't worry, I'm not mad." Hugo stopped looking so distraught and smiled back up at her, albeit somewhat hesitantly, and Dominique had to fight to keep the smile on her own face, feeling back for making him look so sad.

Behind them, Aunt Hermione came up the walk with thirteen year old Rose, who was carrying her overnight travel pack, as well as Hugo's. Rose was carefully picking her way across the walk, carefully avoiding the sea, and Dominique vaguely recalled the younger girl's aversion to water, slightly startled that she had bothered to remember such a thing about her younger cousin; the two girls weren't on very good terms, ever since Dominique had slapped Rose two years ago, when the younger girl had publicly embarrassed Dominique as they neared final exams, claiming that Dominique had been cheating on her O.W.L.S. (Which was a lie, and Rose was just a bossy, know-it-all, the exact opposite of what a Ravenclaw was supposed to be, as far as Dominique was concerned.) There was not much love lost between the two of them anyway, as they hadn't been over fond of each other to begin with.

"Good morning, Dominique," said Aunt Hermione, stopping just short of Dominique and Hugo. Dominique smiled at her aunt, squinting in the direction of daybreak, where the sun was still beginning its slow climb into the sky, unconcerned with the mortals below, who were already beginning to sweat in the hot July weather, even if it was only six in the morning. "It's nice to you again, as usual. You've grown a bit since last time, haven't you?" Dominique had, a full four inches, which made her now taller than Aunt Hermione, something she didn't point out merely because she was tired of seeing Rose's scowls and glares and condescending eye rolls that irritated Dominique.

Hugo had taken her hand, sighing quietly, and she looked down just as he yawned; Dominique couldn't help but smile at him, completely in love with this little boy next to her-if she could just take Hugo away with her and run away to somewhere nice, Dominique thought she might have been in paradise. "Come on, then, Mum's probably going to be up soon," she said, leading them all up to the house, Hugo still clinging to her hand, and she grinned, feeling like the luckiest person in the world, to be with this amazing little boy who was so full of potential and happiness and had not yet been dragged down by the rest of the world. He was still innocent, unaware that things would not always be so good-and Dominique would not be the one to tell him such things. As they walked into the house, daybreak bursting into a mirage of colours as the sun finally pulled itself up, yawning sleepily, Dominique couldn't help but smile, feeling that, even though she certainly did not deserve someone so amazing as Hugo, she was glad he was with her. She was glad they could be together, side by side, facing the world one daybreak at a time.


	31. disrupting the balance

_**Written for the 'Connect the Weasleys Challenge' by Morning Lilies, using Dominique/James: happy birthday. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 28, spitting image. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by Utlaga, using non-magical object: candle. **_

….

They were celebrating Charles Potter's first birthday today, a rainy April seventh, gathered around James' and Caroline's table, which had been dragged into the backyard; James had smartly planned ahead and the family was celebrating underneath an awning, keeping them safe from the rain, and still able to enjoy the cake and presents as the twelve month tore into paper, ripping ribbons off his presents with the glee that can only be found in infants as young as he. Charles was James' youngest child, his only son, and as Dominique watched him carry the little boy, she could see the love that was obvious between father and son, the way they clung to each other, so happy to have found someone who, in some way, completed them. This was the first party Dominique had been to since she had returned from the _place not spoken of, _which was the family's way of referring to the mysterious location that Dominique and her husband and daughters had been living at for over nine years without ever once contacting anyone else.

Charlie, sweet little Charlie, with his chubby cheeks and little fingers that patted his father's face, his father's hair, anything Charlie could get his hands on; it was obvious to all from the way James was looking down at the young boy wriggling in his arms that there was no he loved more, save for his wife and two daughters. Charlie, sweet darling Charlie, who everyone loved, was the spitting image of James, with his dark hair and happy brown eyes. Charlie-Charles-had been named after James' and Dominique's uncle, Charlie Weasley, who had passed away almost twenty-five years ago, but he had also been named after James' great-grandfather, Charlus Potter, a man James had never met.

As James held his little boy, laughing as Charlie tried blowing out the candles, as the party went on around her, Dominique had to stifle a sob, wondering why she had ever dared to think it was a good idea to miss all this, had ever thought she could ever truly leave her own family. She didn't really know her own nieces and nephews, didn't know her own little second cousins, the oldest of whom were already five years old-her own nephew, Remus, was nearly thirteen already. How had she survived separating herself for so long from her family, how had she been able to push away so far?

"Hey, Domi," James said, coming over to greet her with his customary warm smile, he had handed Charlie over to a smiling Lily, and was now looking at Dominique with obvious interest, observing her every move. He certainly seemed a lot happier than how Dominique felt at that moment, watching this family of near strangers, as if they had never even noticed she was gone, as if she had never really mattered in the grand scheme of the Weasley family plan. "You okay, Domi?" James asked, giving her a concerned look, eyes narrowing in suspicion, and her heart lurched, recalling the pain in his eyes when she had returned after nearly nine years; James had not been the first to accept her return, but he wasn't the last one. "Is everything fine between you and Ciel? Are the girls okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed, as someone began to clap loudly behind them, while Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione began to dance wildly like they weren't in their late fifties, but rather just teenagers again. Dominique couldn't help but smile at them, and at James, glad that _he _at least seemed to care about her, glad that the rest of her family was happy at least; James seemed to be interested in her life, she had to give him that, interested in her well-being, her safety, unlike the others. "Lisette and Noella are fine, as are Ciel and I. He's a bit thrown off, I think, by all these differences in customs, though the girls are adjusting pleasantly. I'm glad I taught them English alongside the French." The girls were nine and three now, respectively, and had lived their entire life in France up until now, and mostly spoke French; she blushed, knowing that was something they wouldn't have had to do if she had just stayed in England instead of running away. Ciel and Molly were always telling her she'd made the wrong choice.

"That's good to hear," James said happily, politely, and Dominique felt her stomach lurch as he continued to smile at her like nothing was wrong, like she hadn't just silently walked out of his life for almost nine years, not leaving a message of any kind, only to waltz back in after he'd gotten his own life stabilized, disrupting the balance of the entire family. Dominique hadn't ever really shown much respect towards the rest of her family-at least, that's what Dad had always reprimanded her on-and she was more than a little surprised at how easily James seemed to just _accept _her return, as though it wasn't one, big life-changing ordeal. _Maybe for him it wasn't-maybe, for James, it was just his cousin returning home, where she belonged. _Dominique didn't understand such an idea-she would have been angry if any of her cousins had just taken off without a word, but James was different, wasn't he? He had never really cared before about much, and she shouldn't have been so surprised.

"I'm really glad you're back, by the way," James said suddenly, voice dropping quickly, and Dominique had to lean in to understand what he was saying. "I….I missed you while you were gone, away in France. There wasn't anyone else to play jokes with, just me and Fred, and he's always so busy with Quidditch now that it was beginning to be as if he is hardly ever around anymore. Besides, things are a lot more stable around here with you back; they'll never admit it, of course, but Torie and Louis were complete wrecks when they thought you were dead, and Lily hardly ever smiled. You make our lives better, Domi, even if it doesn't always feel that way, and….I'm glad you came back." He smiled at her, but Dominique could only cringe internally, having not realised the pain she had been truly causing her family, having been away for so long, like a child refusing to come in after dark.

Behind them, people had begun to sing "Happy Birthday" really loudly, and James gave her one last smile before turning to leave; Dominique could only hide the angry tears with a wipe of her sleeve. Even now, she was still only creating more problems.


End file.
